Troika
by selmak
Summary: When the old warlock dies in his final battle, his lover feels responsibility to tell his ex. Alastor Moody, Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt. M/m, f/m Completed 6/23/2012
1. Chapter 1

The old warrior had long come to terms with the simple truth that Death Comes to One All. No escaping that pithy platitude, even if you were a mythological Peverell lad clad in an invisibility robe, clutching a wand and a stone in your hands. These days, he was feeling every one of his old wounds and his missing body parts. He had thrown the dice long enough to reckon the odds, and the chances were long against him surviving this latest sortie.

Being the rarest of souls, a pragmatic romantic, he had to say his goodbyes, especially to her. The simple truth was that he owed her that much, if not more.

Their relationship blazed and burned, exploded and combusted, shredded and frayed their very souls. Until that one black day, when they accepted whatever love they felt for each other simply couldn't endure another round of conflagration. Best if their twisted relationship was ended, _**cleanly**_, with a surgical swiftness, so some fondness and friendship remained.

In time, the warlock took another lover. And in spite of his lover's youthfulness, he still possessed enough poise and composure to balance the old man's fire, a magnanimous heart to accept that not all of his older man's heart belonged to him.

The grizzled vet unhunched his shoulders, brushed off his dragonhide jacket and vest in a noble yet doomed attempt to get rid of decades' worth of abuse, and then straightened his windblown hair, before he pounded on her door to demand entrance. Immediately, she grasped why he was there, not only to inform her of his preparation, but more importantly to say a final goodbye and to apologize for what had gone wrong between them. The passion between them, never truly dormant, flared anew. As before, they argued and fought, ripped open the old scars and then cauterized the wounds. In time, she found herself giving the old wizard a true warrior sendoff.

In her bed.

The next day, she sat in her parlor, staring at the enchanted candle. It had always remained lit, even during the darkest of days, when he had lost his eye and his leg. Intently, she watched the light flicker and dance before it seemingly faded for good. It was then that she knew the truth of it. The warrior had fallen, his final battle fought.

When the knock came at her door, she knew who it would be. Recklessly, she opened the door, mentally hearing the old warrior roundly curse her for her heedless foolishness. What if was _**THEM**_, come for _**HER**_?

No, it was that younger man who was there, kufi in hand. His composure was fracturing, he was struggling to hold it together long enough to report. He had come to her, as he felt it proper for him to inform her that the warlock had fallen in battle.

She pulled him inside even while he was reassuring her that the plan had succeeded; the young boy was safe however the old warrior had died.

"I couldn't find his body," the younger man explained. "I went back and I couldn't find it. I couldn't find it. There was a group of them there, searching for it, and I had to leave. I left his body there like he was a dead dog in the street."

His composure shattered at what he deemed the ultimate betrayal and he keened. A soul shredding sound as he broke down into tears, voicing the grief he felt. Instinctively, she embraced him, letting him express his grief because she understood what he was feeling. The others... they lacked the true comprehension of the old man. Let them be blinded by the scarred wreckage of the handsome man he had once been. They had never known the compassionate soul that had bled from the pain of caring too much. Or of his stalwart belief in the necessity of defending the weak and innocent. But the young man comprehended and his heart was shattered. In his grief, he had turned to the only person he knew would truly understand the maddening contradiction known as Alastor Moody.

The witch held him until his tears stopped. And she continued to embrace him even after he kissed her. It was only a brief buzz on her lips though his normally graceful hand was on her top button, awkward and still.

To her horror, she realized that he _**knew**_. Knew that she had given the old warrior a proper sendoff. That she and the old warrior had an on and off affair for all the years he and the younger man had been together. A handful of times, no more, with the two vowing secrecy so not to wound the young man.

Now the old man was truly gone, the young man desperately desired to be close to _**him**_ one last time. And in his eyes, that meant _**her**_. Because she had always been the one closest to the old man. Not him, it had never been him, but it had always been _**her**_.

And the wizard was watching her, his grieving dark eyes intense.

A slight nod of her head was her answer.

The morning after was always uncomfortable, Minerva knew. However, today's morning after easily won hands down for the most awkward ever. Alastor was dead, and Kingsley Shacklebolt was in her bed.

That was most assuredly a mistake.

Yet Kingsley Shacklebolt had been so bloody needy for closeness, how she could refuse him? Even if that meant bedding a witch old enough to be his mother.

While sex with Alastor was passion and fire, intensity and enthusiasm, Kingsley had been tender and considerate. She was _**older, **_soft and saggy and the muscular Kingsley was so very much younger and so _**fit**_. When she and Alastor coupled, she hadn't been so terribly self-conscious of how time had not been kind to her. Because they had been together for decades, so they had grown accustomed to their physical changes. The two of them, they were damn proud of their physical changes, as every gray hair proved that they were survivors. With Kingsley, she was hyper aware of what time had done to her, that her breasts were no longer firm and as perky as they had once been. The four stunners to her chest thanks to Dolores Umbridge's insanity had left noticeable physical scars. To her deep embarrassment, the perceptive Shacklebolt had noticed her distress. The younger wizard had done his noble best to assuage her doubts by a time tested method - by shagging her through the mattress most of the blessed night long.

And there had most assuredly been the ghost of Alastor Moody in her bed. What had occurred between Kingsley and her hadn't been a mere coupling, it had been a threesome. Kingsley may have physically loved her, but emotionally, he had been loving Alastor.

Moody had often bemoaned the fact that she and Kingsley weren't sociable. It had distressed him that the two people, to whom he was closest, gave each other such a wide berth at the meetings of the Order. It was amazing to Alastor that she and Kingsley had never sat down for a cuppa and a long, commiserating bitch session about Moody and his various quirks.

His hopeless naivete proved Minerva's deeply cherish belief – that Alastor was a daft prat.

He might be a tactical genius in the realm of wizard warfare but in the affairs of the heart, he was an utterly gormless idiot. He just couldn't grasp the idea that she and Kingsley had both separately decided that if it wasn't for the war against You Know Who, that they'd be quite content never to talk to each other. It wasn't that the two of them didn't like each other, but really, they had _**nothing**_ in common.

Except for the simple fact that they were both incapable of being 'the one' for Alastor.

There was some flaw, some intrinsic trait in them that would drive Alastor off to find solace with the other.

Kingsley was spooned against her, his muscular arm wrapped around her. His breathing was slow and deep, which meant that he was asleep, while she was most assuredly wondering how to handle "The Morning After." Alastor's last request of Minerva had been for her to keep an eye on Kingsley if anything should befall him.

That thought made her eyes well with tears and she struggled to keep her composure.

Somehow, she doubted Alastor had meant _**this**_.

Consoling Kingsley in the very same bed that she and Alastor had used the day before.

Well, at least she had changed the sheets, so it wasn't like she was a paid by the bedding whore in Knockturn Alley. She had _**standards**_. Clean sheets, for one. Fresh knickers, too.

First step was how to escape his embrace without waking him. She was debating the best way to flee from the bed when Kingsley spoke.

"He never stopped loving you," Kingsley stated. His deep voice was free from recrimination. "You were the love of his life."

"Kingsley, he loved _**you**_," protested Minerva.

"Minerva, you were the fire that blazed in his soul. He loved you with every breath he took," was his rebuttal.

"A fire that all but consumed him. You gave him _**peace**_, Kingsley."

"Alastor wasn't a man of peace, Minerva. He was a fighter."

Really, there wasn't any way Minerva could disagree with that.

After a rather perfunctory kiss on her cheek, a somber Kingsley left her bed and her house following that conversation. To her surprise, he returned a few hours later, burdened down with bits and pieces he thought she'd wish to have. There were pictures of her and a handsome Alastor, back when he had two eyes and both legs. There were presents she had given Alastor, a few books inscribed with flowery affection to him, a love letter or three that Alastor had kept.

Knowing that Alastor had wished them to be friends, Minerva brewed Kingsley a cuppa and offered him some ginger biscuits. At first, he seemed keen to refuse but she insisted and so he stayed. The only sound was the clink of china teacups against the saucers. They really didn't need to say a word as her hand was tightly clasping his.

Alastor's death had affected her far more deeply than Minerva at first realized. Perhaps the tears that would fill her eyes at the oddest moments were not only due to her grieving over Alastor's death but also lamenting Albus' passing. Or perhaps the tears were tears of rage as Severus Snape, Albus' murderer was now Headmaster of Hogwarts. Her sleep was fragmented and she managed to stay on her feet through sheer grit alone. Her body pained her with a deep bone ache and she lost weight as she simply wasn't hungry. Filius kept tempting her with food while Poppy kept plying her with vitamins, tonic and potions but the very idea of food nauseated her.

Scottish through and through, she daily faced Severus Snape, head unbowed, her eyes bone dry. Because she would stand between the Death Eaters and her students to defend every single one of them, even if they were Death Eater kin. It was only in the middle of the night did she allow herself the luxury of tears.

It was late September when she was called into Dumbledore's office for a brief meeting. Yes, Dumbledore's workplace as it would never be Severus Snape's office.

"Professor McGonagall," was the devil's standard sly greeting.

"Professor Snape," was her automatic response.

"Headmaster Snape," was his quick retort. "Perhaps you may not have realized that I have been promoted."

She knew the boy he once was, how he had craved the respect of his peers and like hell would she grant him the honor of addressing by the title of his murdered predecessor.

"Professor Snape," Minerva repeated. "I had not heard that you had been promoted. As far as I know the position of Headmaster remains unfilled after Professor Dumbledore's swan dive off the Astronomy Tower."

That caused a reaction. A _**violent**_ reaction as Severus Snape struck his hand again the desk so hard that she thought it possible that he might break his hand.

"Damn it, Minerva," he raged. "You must learn your place, woman!"

He might have said more but an exhausted Minerva blacked out. She never realized that a deeply troubled Severus Snape prevented her from cracking her head against the floor or that he tried to rouse her.

When she woke, she was in the infirmary. Filius Flitwick was sitting next to her and he gave her a quick flash of a mile when he realized that she was awake. There was a loud altercation outside the closed door to her ward and Minerva grimaced when she realized who the combatants were.

"Headmaster Snape, Professor McGonagall will be fine. She has a severe case of Lithuania Lurgy and requires bed rest and clear fluids. An interrogation by you will not be conducive to her recovery."

That ringing voice was Poppy Pomfrey.

"I do not remember that Professor McGonagall was ever in the habit of flitting of to Lithuania, so I fail to understand how she came down with Lithuania Lurgy."

Severus Snape.

"Perhaps a student had a mild case when they came to Hogwarts. Lithuania Lurgy can severely affect older witches especially if they're run down. You've been working her too hard, Headmaster Snape."

Severus protested and Poppy gave him the rough side of her tongue. That was Poppy, as she believed her in her domain; she was equal to any Headmaster of Hogwarts. Be they Albus Dumbledore or an upstart murdering Death Eater that Minerva had once called friend.

"Lithuania Lurgy?" Minerva asked Filius. "Is there even such a thing?"

"Of ye of little faith, yes, there is a syndrome caused Lithuania Lurgy. It's not very common, but we had to think fast to find a real illness that has symptoms that matches your condition." Filius shook his head. "Too many people have been watching you, Minerva. We can't risk that they figure out what you've been hiding."

"I've been hiding?" Minerva repeated.

"Minerva, _**please**_. Do you really think I wouldn't notice?" Filius asked. "Minerva, I have four children, a dozen grandchildren and a horde of great-grandchildren. I do recognize when a woman has fallen newly pregnant. Do you need me to contact the father and get him here?"

"Filius, I'm _**not**_." Minerva sputtered. "I'm menopausal. After I took the stunners to my chest...I haven't cycled since. It's been months since I last..."

"Minerva, witches and wizards do not age the same way Muggles do. You know that for a fact, as I would be long dead if I were pure human Muggle. Some witches have remained fertile until they were far older than you are now."

No. There was no possible way that Filius could be correct in his assumption. She was seventy years old and barren to boot. Because if heaven forbid, Filius was correct, Minerva wasn't sure who the father was.

In her desire to prove Filius that he was in the wrong, she permitted him to stay while Poppy discussed her fainting spell.

"Filius believes that I am pregnant," she informed Poppy. "Please inform him that he's mistaken. I am in menopause and I cannot be pregnant."

Poppy swallowed once and glanced at Filius, as though for reassurance, before looking at Minerva. Her eyes were warm and sympathetic.

"Minerva, you're ten weeks along," Poppy informed her.

"I beg your pardon?" Minerva asked, wishing to confirm what she heard. Her heart was racing and Poppy shook her head. She sat up and both Filius and Poppy motioned for her to lie down.

"You need to lie down, Minerva. If you continue to insist on this inhuman pace of yours, you will lose the baby. Your blood pressure is extremely elevated and you are on the verge of complete physical collapse."

"Do you want me to get the father here?" Filius repeated.

"Filius, I feel you will not think very well of me when I confess that I do not know who the father is," Minerva slowly admitted. "While I fear to bear tales of the dead, is there any way we can confirm if Alastor Moody is the father?"

Well, it wasn't though Alastor Moody was around to protest his character assassination. Or to loudly deny paternity.

"Normally, we could, but your pregnancy is too high risk right now to even think of doing an elective spell like that. I'd like to put you in St. Mungo's." Poppy put up her hand to silence Minerva's protest. "I know you won't agree to _**that**_. Nonetheless, you need bed rest, Minerva and no visitors. However, there is someone who wishes to see you. He's quite insistent."

"You cannot possibly believe that I can deal with Severus Snape right now," protested Minerva.

"No, it's Kingsley. I contacted him after you collapsed," explained a somber Filius.

"What?" Minerva questioned. "You had no right!"

"Minerva, it's been two months since Alastor Moody died. It's also two months since you conceived. If Alastor is a possible father than it only stands to reason that Kingsley is most likely suspect for the other father..."

"Damn your Ravenclaw logic, Filius. Did you tell him that you believe him to be the father?" Minerva asked. "Send him away, Poppy. Please."

"Minerva, he wishes to see you because he's concerned. He came here at great risk to himself. If any of those Death Eaters catch him here there will be problems," Filius reminded her.

"I'll see him, but he's not one of the possible fathers," Minerva lied.


	2. Chapter 2

Kingsley Shacklebolt was a seasoned Auror. Trained by the very best, his specialty was Concealment and Disguise, but this... this... was just blatant stupidity. To willingly head into the den of vipers just because Minerva McGonagall had taken a bit of a dive – truly he was barking mad.

Damn Alastor for making him Avow that he'd keep an eye on Minerva.

Blast his old House Head for informing him of the Dragon Lady's swoon.

Bugger him up and down until Sunday for being a fool for feeling that he truly needed to find out what happened.

He was too damn tall to be a student at Hogwarts, so he Twisted and Contorted his taller frame into a smaller, more compact version of himself. Gave himself dreads and he Melted his features into looking much younger, like he was a fifteen year old berk. That done, he Projected a 'Do not Notice' aura. It would take a very observant soul to actually notice the teen with dreads and Death Eaters weren't too terribly perspective. They just bred like rabbits.

When it was clear, he stepped out of the Gunhilda of Gorsemoor statue and put his head down. For good measure, he had added assorted bruises and abrasions to his face so it appeared that he had gotten the worst end of a brawl. He nearly got trampled by a mass exodus of people from the Hospital Wing. The reason for it was apparent as Severus Snape and Madam Pomfrey were having a bit of a row. Trying to shrink into the corner, he put his feet up on the seat next to him and he hugged his knees, keeping his face hidden.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that an aggrieved Severus Snape was now focusing on him.

"Five points Ravenclaw for messy dreadlocks, five more points for fighting and I'll take more points from your house if you so much as breathe too loudly."

Kingsley nodded his head in what he hoped was a properly terrorized manner.

Severus Snape left the ward and Kingsley didn't have to struggle to appear as though he had experienced an unanticipated reprieve. Madam Pomfrey shook her head and then put her hand beneath Kingsley's chin and then forced him to look at her. Her eyes narrowed in concern as she realized that whoever he was, he wasn't a current Hogwarts student.

"Ma'am, Professor Flitwick told me to report to the infirmary." Kingsley explained.

"Did you ever break your arm?" was her surprising response.

"Which one? I broke both my forearms during a Quidditch finale. I came off luckier than my teammates." He didn't mention that the broken forearms came during a victory brawl.

"Your parents sent me a Howler," Poppy declared. "Gave me the what for because their darling boy got hurt."

Ah, another test to confirm who he was.

"My parents are dead. I lived with my grandparents in Barbados until I was ten. Because my mum was a British citizen, when it was determined that I had the spark, I had the choice of Hogwarts or being taught the old ways, Obeah. Grandmother was afraid of the Obeah priests and sent me here."

Poppy relaxed and gave him a tired smile. "I'll let Minerva know that you're here. Filius is sitting with her and I need to talk to her why she collapsed. I'm _**so **_glad you're here."

He couldn't figure out why his appearance would matter to Minerva but Kingsley nodded his head. "I must confess that I'm a little confused that Filius contacted me."

That confession earned him an indecipherable smile and a cryptic comment, "In time, you'll understand."

His nerves were humming as he watched everywhere, anticipating the possible attack. If Severus realized who he had taken points from, he'd bring several Death Eaters. Say what one wanted about Severus, but Kingley wasn't Sirius. He knew that Severus wasn't a coward, not by a long shot, but Severus was a realist.

The door to Minerva's ward opened and Poppy gestured for him to come inside.

"She's exhausted. I've gave her a potion so she should fall asleep soon."

Minerva McGonagall's countenance was whiter than the crisp bed sheets that she was nestled in. She was staring at the wall and no... There was no way, Minerva McGonagall, bastion of morality and propriety would be saying those words under her breath. When she realized that she was no longer alone, she stopped cursing and looked towards him. His different appearance earned him her arched eyebrow.

"Shacklebolt." Her voice was shaky, as though she was about to laugh or cry. There was a brief flush of color when she realized that she sounded less than composed. "I must regretfully inform you that I must resign from the Order effective immediately."

He said not a word but noted her use of his last name. She was struggling to put distance between them. Yes, she had consoled him the night of Alastor's death but ever since then, they were as distant with each other as they had ever been. In fact, they were further apart.

"I will also be resigning from Hogwarts."

That earned her his arched eyebrow. The Order _**needed **_her at the Hogwarts. In fact, when the Order had first heard that Severus Snape was Headmaster, she had refused to even consider leaving the school.

"I'm surprised," he finally stated. "I assumed that if you were dying, you would use your last breath to spit in his eye."

"I'm not dying, Shacklebolt. Though I fear it might be preferable. I'm _**pregnant**_, Shacklebolt."

"Alastor's?"

His question offended her. She sat bolt upright and growled, "While it would be easier for you if it _**was **_his, I don't _**know**_. However, I'm _**not **_asking for your financial support, Shacklebolt!"

The physical exertion seemed to take its toll on her, as the witch turned even paler. He helped her lie down back in her sick bed. She'd only take so much help from him as his efforts to help her roll on her side were rebuffed, and then he sat on the edge of the bed. Facing away from her, towards the wall, he spoke.

"You misunderstand, Minerva." Deliberately, he used Minerva's first name. "If Alastor is the father, it would mean... that part of Alastor is _**still **_alive."

There was a definite sniffle in response so he carefully reached out and patted her hand.

"I'm sorry," Minerva said. "I'm having some difficulties wrapping my mind around the concept. A woman _**my **_age and I don't know which of you is the father."

"I am," was his immediate response. He wasn't offering, he was just stating the plain truth.

"Kingsley, there is a very good chance that Alastor is the father. He got there first."

"I _**will **_fulfill his obligations to any child he may have fathered."

He found her hand and squeezed.

"Kingsley, that is quite noble of you, but … there may be no child. It's unlikely that I can carry the child to term. I'm no Sarah, who was happily delivered from her barrenness at the ripe old age of one hundred plus," Minerva explained. "I'm too old, and Poppy's not sure…I'm on bed rest right now, and I'm not sure if I wish this."

He continued holding her hand and then she spoke, "At one time, I would have been delighted."

"I know about your loss." That's all Kingsley would say and yet it failed to convey what he meant. He knew about Minerva's miscarriage. But he knew far more than just that. Kingsley knew why the stubborn Alastor was so insistent on visiting Minerva on what had been the due date and the anniversary of the date she had miscarried. Alastor had carried a great deal of guilt for not being there when Minerva had needed him the most.

Not that Alastor had willingly admitted that to Kingsley. The revelation had taken some patient questioning and all he had gotten from Alastor was a terse statement that there was to have been a baby and a wedding but things had gone arse over tit. And Kingsley had put together the rest by a copious amount of eavesdropping and clandestine research. How that after Minerva's miscarriage, Alastor and Minerva's relationship hadn't been the same. There had been a lot more fighting and a lot less loving, the wedding postponed and then finally canceled. Yet their relationship had continued to sputter along for years until he had caught Alastor's eye.

Silence.

"He… told… you?"

"I asked, as there was a pattern to his disappearances. It was always the same days in July and February."

There was more silence.

"Kingsley… Alastor deeply regretted that you were involved with someone who couldn't let go of his past. He believed that you deserved better."

Well, he had often wondered that himself; especially on the days Kingsley knew that Alastor was with Minerva. He'd spend the lonely hours chastising himself for putting up with sloppy seconds. Each time, he vowed that this would the time that he'd bin-bag Alastor.

There were plenty of other people who had expressed an interest in him. People that had all their body parts in working order, people who didn't have an inability to completely sever the relationship with their ex. People that might actually talk to him about what was bothering them. People who didn't make Kingsley go all introspective and wonder what was the matter with _**him**_, why he wasn't enough to make Alastor happy.

After all, Alastor had originally approached _**him**_. Alastor had invited Kingsley over for dinner and the long conversation over Alastor's home cook meal had continued the morning after.

Yet when Alastor, with his red-rimmed eyes would Apparate into the house, Kingsley's strong avowals on developing a backbone in reference to one Alastor Moody would be for naught. Especially when Alastor came bearing Kingsley's comfort food fresh from Barbados - _**real **_Bajan Macaroni Pie & Fried Flying Fish, fried Plantains and coconut bread.

Because Kingsley _**knew **_how much that gesture cost Alastor Moody. Because a guilty Alastor wished to do something special for Kingsley. After Alastor's first few attempts to cook Kingsley's favorites had been such utter cock-ups, they had mutually agreed that Alastor should just stick to cooking what he knew best. That culinary largesse didn't mean that Kingsley never had the urge for the food of his homeland. It just meant that Alastor wasn't allowed to cook it.

For Alastor Moody to disguise himself to mingle among Muggles, to carefully scope out which restaurant to purchase the food, to turn off his raging paranoia long enough to allow Kingsley to eat food that Alastor hadn't prepared…

For Alastor to actually take a few bites of the coconut bread… that meant _**something**_.

It meant that Alastor was struggling to be less paranoid, to be 'normal' for Kingsley. Alastor had attempted once to unbend enough to have a public meal with his lover, however he been so obviously uncomfortable that they hadn't made it to the main course.

And on the times that Alastor was emotionally torn up over bedding Minerva McGonagall, he'd bring Kingsley Pudding & Souse, conkies, guava cheese, tamarind balls and icebox chocolate pudding. And when a sated Kingsley was drowsy, Alastor would take him to bed and give him the blow job of his life.

Alastor Moody kept coming back to _**him**_, didn't that mean something?

Instinctively, Kingsley grabbed the two rings he wore on a chain around his neck.

Alastor had Bonded _**him**_. Not Minerva, _**him**_. Right after Alastor had authorized the plan for the seven Harrys. It had been a stupid, reckless plan, but the only way they could figure on how to keep Harry safe. With all its glaring flaws in the plan, including trusting Mundungus Fletcher! Kingsley had wished to partner with Fletcher and Alastor had neatly sidestepped his concerns by proposing to him.

With matching rings and that damn shy grin of his, the little boy smile that Kingsley couldn't resist because it was so damn rare. And… and… that dry quip of needing to make a honest man out of Kingsley as Kingsley's redoubtable grandmother wouldn't have approved of her only grandson living in sin.

The bastard had _**known **_that Mundungus would flee for his life when things got tough. The bloody bastard had _**known **_that Voldemort would go after him because he was bloody Alastor Moody.

Alastor Moody had _**known **_that he was a dead man. And when faced with his mortality, the bastard had bonded him and bedded Minerva.

And while Kingsley Shacklebolt was furious at Alastor for dying on him, he was more upset with himself because once again, Alastor had gone to _**Minerva**_. However, he had promised Alastor that he'd watch over Minerva and now, more than ever, he had to keep his vow.

"You won't be safe here and you certainly can't go home," Kingsley informed Minerva. "I know where you will be safe, as its unplottable. I have a small cottage; it's where I grew up with my grandparents."

"I'm on bedrest, Kingsley. I can't go _**anywhere**_ unless I have someone to mind me," Minerva reminded him.

"I'm watching you," he said.

"You've got the war," she reminded him. "We need you _**here**_, rallying the troops. Not wiping my ..."

"I can take you back one year," he quickly interrupted. "Alastor had acquired a modified time turner. That way we're both here tomorrow. All three of us."

Time turners! He was playing with _**time**_. That went against he had ever been taught, but it was the only plan he could devise. Had Alastor felt this sense of desperation when he had agreed to the plan of Seven Harrys?

"I'll need medical care, Kingsley. _**Real **_medical care."

"I'll be there for you, Minerva." Madam Pomfrey assured her as she walked back into the ward "I'll be there for you both. Kingsley, we'll bring Minerva to Filius' house where he will 'watch' her for the weekend. The Death Eaters can't get anywhere near his home. It's completely Charmed against his students, present and former and he's taught the entire sorry lot of them. Before you quibble the day away Minerva, you _will _agree to this. I know this because right now the three of you are also at my house waiting to return to Hogwarts on Sunday evening. I will take care of getting your suite prepared so it is baby proof and most importantly, Snape proof."

"_**Three**_?" Minerva whispered. Her tone was one of stunned disbelief. "The _**three **_of us?"

"Three," Poppy assured her. "Kingsley, you'll take Minerva to your home. Get her settled back then, and after that, you come straight to Hogwarts. You'll get me and Filius. Remember that. Now we need to hurry because I know Headmaster Snape will be back shortly to check on her."

-8-8-8-

Kingsley was cradling the slumbering Minerva in his arms when he arrived in the cottage. A wheelchair would have been the better choicer but more difficult to pinpoint a safe landing spot. Wandlessly, he turned down the covers, made the mattress softer and freshened the sheets. That housekeeping down, he placed Minerva into bed, positioning her as instructed.

A long look at the Mariah's Maternity Dowel showed that Minerva was squarely in the yellow. While he'd prefer if she was solidly in the green, it was much better than her original shade of crimson. With Minerva in yellow, that gave him a little leeway to organize the cottage before he went to Hogwarts to get Poppy and Filius. He needed to confirm that the water cistern was full, that the wards were still at full strength and a countless thousand other issues.

Funny, he had never realized how small the cottage was. Rationally, he knew it had just the one bedroom, the living room, kitchen and bath plus the porch but it would be tight quarters for two people and one ghost for the next year. Especially when it was Minerva, Alastor and he that made up the trio.

Everything shipshape, he checked on Minerva. She was still in the yellow section but a tad bit closer to green and with the potion on board; she should be asleep for the next four hours. Time to get Poppy here and explain everything.

Before he had Disapparated to Barbados, Filius Flitwick had gone over the plan with him. It seems that Alastor as the possible father had never been mentioned to either of them because that would have raised the question of why Alastor wasn't involved. The excuse Kingsley had given them was the stress of being Assistant Headmistress of Hogwarts and Minerva's advanced age had required Minerva to be on bedrest for the pregnancy. Getting her as far as possible away from Hogwarts and the stresses of her position had been the only solution. Kingsley had never mentioned Albus' death nor the dark times they were facing.

So to keep the timeline clean, he needed to remember not to tell them anything.

That was easy for them to say yet harder for Kingsley to remember.

Especially when he came face to face with Alastor Moody embracing Minerva McGonagall in the halls of Hogwarts. It was a chaste embrace but still it _**hurt**_. It was agonizing enough for Kingsley to see Alastor once again, but to see them together, embracing, brought it to a new level of pain. He tried to leave before either of them saw him.

Minerva saw him as she called out his name. The two broke apart and then Alastor called out to him. Least the two of them didn't appear guilty that would have just made it worse.

He just shook his head. "I have to go. Order business."

"Kingsley," Alastor growled. "Don't go."

Again, he shook his head and turned away from them. With a deliberately fast pace that Alastor could never hope to match he walked away. However, Alastor didn't play fair as he found himself unable to move forward. Yes, he was walking at a steady pace but he wasn't moving.

"I have Auror business, Moody," he growled. Too late he realized that he actually should have said _**Order**_.

"You're not going away until we talk," growled Alastor. He grabbed Shacklebolt and then not so neatly tossed him into a storage closet. He followed in and Kingsley found himself pressed against the wall.

"Who _**died**_?" growled Alastor

Kingsley Shacklebolt flinched and Alastor's eyes, both the real and the fake, narrowed in alarm.

"You're really upset, Kingsley." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"I'm _**fine**_," protested Kingsley.

"You're a lousy liar, Shacklebolt. And you're really upset with _**me**_. What's the problem? Was it me hugging Minerva? Nothing happened between us, it was just a friendly hug."

Again, he claimed to be fine and that caused Alastor to peer into his eyes. Alastor had a bit of the talent for mind reading. It wasn't strong enough for it to be useful in being an Auror as he needed an emotional connection with his victim. It was horrible to see those two dissimilar yet so familiar eyes peering into his.

He felt Alastor in his head, felt him gently probing and then Alastor physically flinched when he experienced Kingsley's emotions. The soul shredding agony of Alastor leaving him forever, the bitterness, as tart as wormwood, that it was always to _**Minerva **_that Alastor clung.

"Lee," Alastor began, using his pet name for Kingsley. "I've assured you, Lee, that Minerva and I … it's long over. I wish you two could be friends. It would mean so much to me if you two could be friendly."

That request sparked Kingsley's anger.

"I know _**all **_about you two. I know when you've bedded her, Alastor, because you're always so attentive to me afterwards. And I haven't said anything because I've craved for you to be more affectionate. I knew what I was getting into when I moved in with you, but I didn't think it would hurt so damn much. That I would always be second best."

Kingsley then voiced the ultimate betrayal in a flat tone.

"I just wish you'd tell me what is so wrong with me that you can be so cozy with her. When you were supposed to teach here at Hogwarts, you told me to stay away. Didn't want the kiddies talking about us. I wasn't to send you a Christmas gift or correspond with you. If you hadn't pushed me away, I would have known that it wasn't you! She didn't know it wasn't you, but _**I would have**_."

His formerly composed tone was harsher, more strident.

"And you went to HER for comforting after you got out that damn trunk. You wouldn't come to me, you went to her, and you _**bedded **_her, Alastor. And I didn't say a damn thing because that was the night you finally came to our bed and you let me touch you. I wanted you to feel safe and secure with me, and it destroyed me that you and Minerva… I wanted… I needed…but you went to _**her**_. You always go to _**HER**_."

"Lee, Lee… listen to me."

"Stop it, Alastor. You're going to leave me, I _**know **_you are. I will be alone and I will have _**nothing **_except for the bitter realization that you and Minerva..."

He snapped his mouth shut then as he was close to blurting out something that could not be said.

"Lee… it's never been you. The issue has always been _**me**_, you must believe me. I care a great deal for you, Lee. And that's the problem, Lee. I care too much for you."

"Buggered up way of showing it. Always retreating back to Minerva's bed," Kingsley spat.

Alastor sighed, a long drawn out sound and then he spoke. His voice was quite soft and tentative as he struggle to explain the inexplicable. And while his tone might be tentative, he still had Kingsley blocked and backed into the corner of the closet.

"Lee, it's because… Minerva still sees me as the man I was. Before I lost assorted bloody parts and got a bloody AK rune carved in my face. You… you only know me as a crip. Lee."

Kingsley flinched at the venomous way Alastor spat that term. _**CRIP**_.

"I don't see you as a cripple," protested Kingsley.

"It's there in the back of your mind. Try to deny it, but the thought is still there. You've told me that my resolute nature was what attracted you. I know that it's not because my legs look so fetching in a kilt. I worry that if I appear… less than resolute, you may…" Alastor paused and then struggled to continue. It was painful to watch the wizard struggle to find the words. "I can talk to Minerva because she sees the old Alastor. We are just so entwined with each other because of our past that I know that she won't be disgusted. I can't allow myself to show any weakness to you, because who the hell would want to be with a feeble old man?"

"I would," softly whispered Kingsley.

"You are always so composed and serene. I need _**that **_in my life. I need _**you **_in my life. I don't know what I would do if you left me, Lee."

"Why did you go to her for comfort after the damn trunk? I was _**there**_, Alastor. And you _**bedded**_ her."

"I wasn't sure if I could get it up. I knew you wanted it. And I was so damn scared that if I couldn't perform that you'd decide that it wasn't worth putting up with me. I figured, if I failed with Minerva, it would hurt and it would scar, but she'd still put up with me. If I couldn't... give you... _**that**_... I was frightened that you'd want more than a crip could give you."

"You slept with your ex because you were afraid of my reaction. You're making less sense that you usually do, Alastor!"

Alastor quieted him in his usual forthright manner by kissing him and snaking his hand down Kingsley's trousers.

He shouldn't be doing this! Yet, he was kissing Alastor until he was nearly faint from not breathing. And Alastor was _**there**_ and this would be the last time.

-8-8-

Alastor kissed him. It was a gentle, affectionate kiss as Alastor was still worried about him. The older wizard had been quite affectionate and attentive. It was the way Alastor was, he just couldn't say the words, but he tried to speak via his actions.

"I love you, Lee," whispered a somber Alastor. "If you ever left me, I couldn't survive."

It was the first time Alastor had ever said those three words to him and Kingsley had to close his eyes to compose himself.

_Why now? Why does he say this now after he's dead to me?_

Alastor misunderstood his silence; thought that Kingsley didn't believe his sincerity.

"Let's tell Albus to go scratch for a few days. I know, we'll head off to Barbados for a bit. Clean your schedule and let's go. Just the two of us for a week. And we'll go out to dinner and go to concerts. We'll go to the pictures. A week, just the two of us and I'll do everything you want. And I'll do my best not to be a paranoid prat and ruin everything."

_Barbados? Barbados? He hates Barbados because of the sand. It gets everywhere and it bothers his leg and his eyes. He hates the sun because it darkens his scars and makes them more noticeable. I've stopped asking him to go to Barbados because he has a miserable time._

_And Minerva's there… in our bed._

"Lee, give me another chance, please? I'll stop nattering about getting you and Minerva on speaking terms. A week in Barbados would do wonders for both of us. Say yes, Kingsley. We'll go to Barbados and I'll eat coconut bread without complaint."

"You despise Barbados, Alastor," an emotionally knackered Kingsley reminded him. "You hate the sun and the sand. I don't want you _**miserable**_. I just wish you wouldn't shut me out."

"I promise not a single pip of complaint," Alastor assured him. "I'll be so cheery; you'll think I'm Arthur Weasley."

"I don't wish Arthur Weasley sharing my bed. I want _**you**_."

"Let's go to Barbados, Lee. I know you miss going there, and we can go. And I promise that I won't bother you about Minerva. I should have accepted the fact a long time that you two just don't get along. Tell me what you wish me to do, Lee. Just don't leave me," pleaded Alastor.

"I won't leave you," Kingsley quietly admitted. "I can safely say that I will not be the one to leave."

And Alastor kissed him once more.

-8-8-8-

It took some convincing, but before long Kingsley had convinced Poppy Pomfrey and Filius Flitwick to take a trip via Sidealong Apparition. When they arrived at the small cottage in Barbados, he gave them both a succinct synopsis of the situation. They took the news better than anticipated, both looking as though they had been hit in the gut by a Bludger's bat.

"Minerva's pregnant and you're the father?" Filius questioned. "And you're from a year in the future?"

"Yes," Kingsley assured him.

"Is Albus drinking cooking sherry with Trelawney now? He agreed to this?" Poppy asked. "This was the best plan you three could come up with?"

"I can't tell you the specifics, but the last time I saw Albus, he was grinning like a loon," Kingsley stated. It was the truth, as Albus had been quite amused at the time. It was the truth, technically, even though he failed to mention that Albus had come down with a serious case of Death since then.

"Well, that sounds like Albus," Poppy dryly admitted. "Let me check on her. Do you wish to be present for the exam?"

"It's up to her, but I need to do some food shopping," Kingsley hedged. Really, the two of them were barely functioning as a team due to their shared goal, witnessing her have a pelvic might set them back even further.

Filius watched the situation with his bright eyes, and then he motioned to Kingsley.

"Lean down to my height," Filius ordered. "There is a great deal you're not telling us. For example, why am I involved?"

"You and Poppy develop a 'relationship' which explains why you're off campus so often," was Kingsley's practiced answer.

Filius blushed and Kingsley kindly refrained from commenting that their pretend relationship had gotten rather serious. Let the diminutive Charms Master enjoy the relationship as it unfolded.

"Do you want me to secure your wards? I understand you can't tell me anything, but would you feel safer if I strengthened your defenses?"

"Yes," Kingsley easily agreed.

-8-8-8-

Fortunately, Minerva wished some privacy during her exam, so Kingsley was able to food shop. He wasn't sure what Minerva would eat so he picked up far too much food for the two of them. By the time he returned to the cottage, Minerva was once again asleep so she wasn't able to voice her dissent on Poppy's treatment plan.

Strict bedrest, broken with permitted breaks for Minerva to attend to certain functions. Kingsley was quite happy with that ruling as he didn't want to handle _**that**_. She wasn't allowed to sit, but if Kingsley felt comfortable carrying her, Minerva could rest on the porch just as well as she could in bed. He wrote everything down and repeated it back in triplicate to confirm his understanding. That done, the duo returned back to Hogwarts.

He watched the sun set from the front porch for a bit, pondering the long day he had.

"Kingsley?" Minerva called from the bedroom.

He rushed to her side, and relaxed once he realized she was in no distress.

"I didn't see you, so I was worried," she explained.

Kingsley sat on the floor, so his face was at her height so they could converse.

"Thank you," was all she said. There was a brief pause before she continued, "I'm sure I'm rather heavy to be carrying about the place. I'm sorry."

"No worries," was his automatic response.

"You look tired," Minerva continued. "What's the matter?"

"When I went to Hogwarts, I saw _**him**_." He admitted that quickly. "He was hugging you, and it hurt, Sarah. It hurt so badly, Sarah."

It hurt. How pithy. Even his jocularity sounded bitter to his ears. His joke fell flat, comparing Minerva to Sarah, the oldest woman to give birth.

"Today is the 28th?" Minerva asked. When he nodded, she explained. "He stopped by Hogwarts to let me know about a mutual friend of ours who had been killed. Alastor was feeling old and tired as the war was weighing heavily on him. He seemed really depressed and I hugged him. And you were there… oh no... _**YOU **_were there…"

She paused as she ruminated on the fact that the future Kingsley had witnessed that episode of closeness.

"I remember you didn't get angry; you just walked away, but you looked _**gutted**_. Alastor was beside himself because he just couldn't lose you. He was so frightened because he really thought it was the end. Oh God, Kingsley. I'm so sorry."

Kingsley nodded his head and he accepted Minerva's one armed embrace.


	3. Minerva

"I'll be in the other room if you need anything," Kingsley reminded her.

She nodded once.

"Do you need anything before I go?" He asked again.

"I'm _**fine**_." She grimaced as heaven help her, she sounded waspish. One couldn't be blamed, as Kingsley Shacklebolt was _**hovering**_. Her every move caused him to jump to attention, if she winced because her back hurt or Heaven forbid, she wiggled her feet, he'd be offering to get Poppy.

"Not too breezy? Should I close the windows? Do you wish a blanket?"

"Kingsley," Minerva pleaded. "I'm _**fine**_."

Kingsley's expression went flat and he murmured a quick apology about bothering her. Oh dear, her last comment was more than a might shrill. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if she had sprouted wings as she had turned into a full blooded harpy.

"Kingsley, I'm sorry…" Least she attempted to say it but her stomach rebelled. With his finely honed reflexes, Kingsley presented her with a bin in which to hurl. When she was done, he carefully wiped her face with a cool, damn cloth.

"I'll get you some ginger tea," he decided. "But you need to change."

"Kingsley…" Minerva tried not to whinge, but she was failing miserably. "I can change myself. Just put the nightshirt next to me, please?"

With a sternness that reminded her of Alastor, Kingsley shook his head.

"Kingsley…" Good heavens, her voice was most assuredly a plea. "I'm don't meant to be…. But…"

Her attempts at modesty were overridden by Kingsley who summarily stripped her of her soiled nightclothes and reclothed her.

"I've already told you, I am here. Alastor always regretted that he wasn't there when you needed him most," Kingsley reminded her. "I am not going _**anywhere**_. Now, let's get you settled."

Pillows were positioned just so and then the proffered ginger tea arrived. A few sips convinced her it was laced with a sleeping potion. Normally, she would have protested but the last few nights of insomnia had been brutal. Dutifully, she sipped at it, until the cup would have fallen from her loose grip. Once again, Kingsley's quick reflexes protected a major mess from occurring. It seemed that Auror agility training was good for more than catching Dark Wizards.

He pulled the light coverlet over her and wished her a pleasant rest.

"Kingsley." Her tone was soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry for being such a stroppy cow."

"I understand that you don't feel particularly chipper. You haven't been sleeping since we arrived here, and Poppy said what I added to your tea is safe."

"I want you to believe me. I never blamed Alastor for not being there when I had the miscarriage," she insisted.

"I know. He knew that also, however I believe that's what made it worse for him. Alastor was a man of his word."

-8-8-8-

She met Alastor when they were eleven. She had sorted into Gryffindor and he was a shabby, lanky ginger Snake. Normally, they never would have talked as the schism between their houses was so very great except for the fact that Herbert Beery was a bit of a nutter. Instead of letting everyone break up into little packs based on House Affiliation, he broke them into groups by the alphabet. That meant McGonagall, Moody.

As Minerva was the proud offspring of generations of Gryffindors, she noticed that Alastor Moody didn't match any of her preconceived notions for Slytherins. For one thing, he didn't fit in well with the other Slytherins. He had no close friends among the Snakes as the gang leader Riddle particularly didn't like him. Also he had intervened when his Housemates had gone after a Ravenclaw. The lanky Alastor had called them cowards for picking on someone smaller than they were. Offered to let them go after him for a bit if they wished to brawl. However no one took him up on his offer as he had the stance of a fighting man.

He sat by himself in Charms, she noticed, and she wondered about him.

A little of the mystery was resolved when they were invited to join the Slug Club. For a wonder, Alastor had cleaned up nicely and seemed happy to be included in the Club. It seemed his reputation for being antisocial was not true.

"So you're Ciarán's boy. I anticipate great things from you if you're anything like your father," was Sluggie's greeting.

Ciarán Moody was a well known as legal counsel to _**those **_folks. Minerva's father said that while _**those **_folks weren't Dark Wizards, there was a spit's worth of difference. Professor Slughorn floated over to his next future connection and he didn't witness Alastor shrink into himself. It seemed being compared to his father wasn't Alastor's idea of a compliment.

"I'm nothing like my old man," Alastor fiercely growled at Slughorn's departing backside. "Ain't nothing like him."

Alastor realized that she was watching him and he blanched. "What are _**you **_staring at?"

"The painting," she lied. She pointed at a particular painting. "That one."

He seemed graceful for her lie.

On her very first birthday at Hogwarts, she found a small package among her books. "Thank you for being my partner in Herbology. Happy Birthday. Your friend, Alastor Moody."

It was a gold colored rose pendant with a matching chain. She wore it to class, touched the pendant and smiled at Alastor. He nodded his head in acknowledgement of her appreciation and that was it. Until Christmas break, when her father noticed it. It was a pretty necklace, so she thought nothing of it when he examined it. His frown unnerved her, and she wondered what she had done wrong.

"Minerva, this is gold. And it's _**goblin **_made. Who gave this to you?"

"Alastor, he's my herbology partner." At her father's stern look of disapproval, she felt an instinctive need to defend her solitary friend. "He's not a thief. He's not like that!"

"Minerva, I don't have the faintest idea how an eleven year old boy can come into possession of something like this, let alone give it to his classmate. You must return it."

Her attempt at returning the necklace was the final key to understanding Alastor.

As she feared, he got offended and refused the gift back.

"It was my mother's. She got it from her Da when she graduated from Hogwarts. She gave it to me when she was dying as she didn't want Gwen to get it as the minute she was dead, Gwen was marrying my dad. It's _**mine **_and I can give it to who I want! Mum told me to give it someone special. I gave it you so if you don't want it, you can just bin it . I'm not taking it back as I gave it you! You're special as you're my only friend."

Alastor was near tears. He was quite the sight, roughly rubbing at his eyes with his fist and insisting that his drunken sot of a step mum wasn't getting his mother's necklace.

She kept the pendant and owled her father for advice. Malcolm's quick, sage response was to treasure the gift in the spirit it was given, along with a request for more information on the terribly lonely boy by the name of Alastor.

-8-8-8-

Through her years at Hogwarts, Minerva kept partnering with Alastor in Herbology even after Herbert Beery gave up his noble and doomed experiment. It was in the fall when Minerva was close to turning sixteen that her life changed. She made the mistake of asking Alastor how his summer holidays had gone. It wasn't the smartest question to ask, as Alastor would be horribly withdrawn and jittery after anytime he spent with his family. Instinctively she understood that Alastor's family life was a subject that only he could bring into the conversation.

"Da decided it was time to really make a man out of me. Took me to Knockturn a few times," Alastor tersely explained. A long pause, then a rushed, "The ladies, they were really kind but I couldn't help but think how much I'd rather be doing it with someone else."

And then he kissed her on her cheek and then he blushed fit to match his hair.

"One of them asked me if I had anyone special. I told her there's someone but… but I hadn't told her. Mab was really patient… taught me how to make it enjoyable… for the girl _**especially **_if it's her first time. Whenever my dad took me there, I'd ask for her. Because I wanted to learn as much as I could about making it good. Because if I was your first, it won't be like what happened with Sorcha . Eddie was a bit hamfisted. It makes me angry to think that someone might be like that with you. But I _**wouldn't **_be like that with _**you**_."

His fierce words were at odds with his soft tones.

Sorcha's deflowering was the stuff of legends as the hypothetically real pairing was trotted out every year when the Hogwarts professors gave the wands and the broom speech to their students. It started off with drinking, attempts at fornicating and ended with both lovers in separate wings at St. Mungo's and family members facing terms in Azkaban.

To say Minerva was gob smacked was an understatement. Alastor had been busy whoring the summer away and his main concern had been asking them for tricks of the trade so to make her first time enjoyable.

"You know I don't drink," quickly explained Alastor as he realized too late that he had said the wrong thing. "I don't even drink butterbeer. Nasty stuff."

"Alastor, I'm only fifteen," Minerva nervously explained.

"We're not doing it _**now**_!" yelped Alastor. Then in a softer tone, he tried to explain. "I just like being with you. And I really like you in _**that **_way."

-8-8-8-

The announcement was a full page in The Daily Prophet, detailing in bold print how Alastor Ciarán Moody was officially disowned by his father and how his younger brother was the Moody heir. It was allover the school, but the man of the hour, Alastor Moody was nowhere to be found.

He was hiding in his secret spot and he was obsessively reading and rereading the article. His eyes were red-rimmed and his hands were shaking. Minerva hadn't believed him when he had claimed that his father would disown him because he wished to be an Auror rather than follow in his da's footsteps How could a father not be bursting with pride over having a son as a Auror? Why even her father had approved of Alastor's career plans.

"I'm here," Minerva whispered. "I'm here."

Alastor pulled her down next to him and he began kissing her. Their relationship had gotten to the stage of stolen kisses around Hogwarts but this was a different type of kiss. He cupped her face in his hands and he looked at her. _**Really **_looked at her.

"Please?" he asked.

She nodded.

-8-8-8-

They were engaged, the wedding planned for a few month's hence when Minerva discovered that there would be three in their wedding party. To say Alastor was delighted would be an understatement.

Alastor kissed her all over and made much ado over her and her belly. Unable to contain his exuberance, her future groom insisted on taking her to bed for a proper celebration. He was exceedingly attentive and thorough. His thoughtfulness meant something was bothering him and he was struggling to hide it. In the afterglow, a hesitant Minerva breeched the subject. By now she knew that she could only get so much from Alastor regarding what bothered him. He didn't like displaying the slightest bit of weaknesses to anyone, especially her.

His inability to trust anyone completely had been a gift from his father. Yet Alastor had let her in as far as he could.

"Whatever is the matter?" She asked. "I know we were planning on waiting. Is that the problem?"

"I'm so happy I could burst. And wouldn't that be a godawful mess? Plus it would be a mite stomach-churning for you in your delicate condition." Alastor was grinning but there was a look in his eyes that Minerva didn't like.

"Talk to me," she requested. "Please."

"I must talk to your father," Alastor slowly admitted. "I will assure him that I will be a _**proper **_Da. I will always be there for you two and I will never let you down."

-8-8-8

He was a mission on that horrible, horrible day that she began to spot and cramp. She had no way to contact him as he was deep uncover and so Minerva was alone during the worst day of her life. In time, they permitted her to leave St. Mungo's after warning her that it was highly unlikely she'd ever be able to carry a child to term.

Upon returning home, she immediately put on one of Alastor's old shirts, the one that he had magnanimously donated as her first maternity shirt. Well, it would never be used as such but it made Alastor feel closer to her. As though he was there, holding her while she fell apart.

The worst part was Alastor had wanted a family so badly. A proper family, a loving father and mother as Minerva had been fortunate to experience. Unlike Alastor, who rarely talked about raised by a pair of abusive, dysfunctional alcoholics.

He popped into the kitchen, fresh from his mission in the field. There was a new scar on his face but he kissed her and then hugged her.

"How's my two most favorite people in the entire world? Is the wee one behaving? You're filling out my shirt so delightfully!" He was in a jovial mood and he put his hand on her now quite flat belly.

"Alastor," Minerva began. Her voice was shaky and she shook her head.

"No," he whispered. Then in a softer tone, he whispered his futile protest against uncaring fate. "No…I promised you that I'd be always be there if you needed me. I wasn't there and I had promised you."

"It's not your fault," she insisted.

"It is, it is. I swore I'd be a better father than mine was. I'd be there and I'd be sober. I wouldn't be sleeping my way through the streets of Dublin. I wouldn't bring the whores into the house while my wife lay dying. I _**promised**_. I wouldn't disown my son because he couldn't follow my footsteps. I swore I wouldn't break my promises, not like my father did, every goddamn day."

He broke down then, clinging tightly to her and she cried too. When the last tears were shed, he pulled her even tighter against him. A grieving Alastor wished to be close to her and that meant _**sex**_. Because Alastor couldn't voice what he was feeling but he could say it through his touch.

"Alastor, I can't," Minerva saw the hurt look in his eyes. "They said no sex…"

"Lovemaking," Alastor softly protested. "It's _**never **_been just sex for me. Not with you."

"For four weeks after… our… loss. That means three more weeks."

"That's reasonable," he slowly agreed. Then with a painfully fake cheer, he added. "We want you healthy when we try again. Our wedding is in two months. It will be a difficult, demanding physical undertaking but I believe that with copious amounts of Victor's Vitality Vitamins, I can ensure that you have a proper swelling belly in your wedding dress. They'll be wondering why I'm grinning like a loon. It'll be because I'll know a secret about the bride."

"Alastor, they think there's something wrong with me. That I can't carry a child to term. I fear that I can't give you what you want."

"It doesn't matter a lick to me," Alastor lied. "I'll be delighted with it just being the two of us. No crying, whinging brats to interrupt our personal time. I know you don't believe me, but I will tell you that every single day before we're married and every day after we're married."

Now the final betrayal. The wedding to which Minerva could no longer look towards as happily as she once had.

"I think we should postpone the wedding," Minerva slowly admitted. "I have a great deal to emotionally process and I fear it wouldn't be fair to you for me to start our marriage that way."

"We can do that. I'll do anything you wish. Tonight, will you let me hold you? I won't do anything for the next month, I just need…"

She agreed, and he held her tightly that night.

-8-8-8-

It just wasn't the same after that. Alastor started drinking. Never to excess, but still, a far cry from his teetotaler days of yore. The stress was getting to them both, as they argued and fought which they had never done before. The physical intimacy, that was such a vital cornerstone of their relationship, was close to nonexistent. He had approached her on what would have been their wedding night, pleading if they could be intimate that night because he _**missed **_her.

It had been the first time since the miscarriage and it had been emotionally agony to her.

Alastor was so sweet and affectionate. She lay there, feeling dead and barren, and he kept nattering. How she just needed to relax and enjoy, that he'd make it good for her. How much he missed this closeness, how much he missed her.

It took far too much time, but he managed to tease and coax a response from her. And he was so bloody happy because he could do _**that **_for her. It wasn't possible for Alastor to give voice to his deep love and concern for her, but through his touch he could express what his words could never do.

Time passed, the wound failed to heal and in fact began to fester. The wedding was delayed again and then finally canceled. Truly, Minerva hadn't wanted that but really, after the second postponement? What option was there? Her attempts to give Alastor back her engagement ring, as it had been his mother's ring, were futile. He refused. Because Alastor refused to give up on her and their relationship.

And then Alastor's father died. The finality of his estrangement from Ciarán completely shredded Alastor and when he drank, he drank heavily to deaden the pain. And Alastor Moody was a maudlin, sloppy drunk. Thank God, he never laid a hand on her after he had been drinking, but how she hated hearing him sob. How she wished she had the strength to help him but some days, it took every ounce of her being just to go through the motions of living.

When the offer came from Albus Dumbledore to teach at Hogwarts, she leapt at it. It was a chance for a clean start, a way to interact with the children she'd never be able to have. She had looked into adopting, but the few magical babies at St. Agatha's nursery were usually adopted by those who had both power and money. And after a long internal debate, she had decided it wouldn't be fair to adopt a Muggle baby. The baby would be loved by her and Alastor, but they'd never be seen as anything more than a second class citizen.

Alastor was slightly jaked when she told him about the job offer. Still sturdy on his feet, speech unslurred but he was feeling irascible. His glower grew darker and darker while she detailed why she was taking the position.

"Hogwarts as a House Head? That means you have to live there, and I can't be visiting due to their morality clause. So, it's over then."

It was amazing to Minerva how much it hurt to end their relationship. And to hear it put as a curt 'So, it's over then' was horrible.

"I think it's time we ended this, Alastor." It was long past time. She couldn't save him when she couldn't even save herself.

"Get out," he barked. "Just get out. You have fifteen minutes to clear everything of yours out of my house. When I come back, you best be out of here."

He punched the wall then, a sickening crack as his fist hit the brick.

"Alastor," Minerva protested. "Let me look at your hand."

"Get out of my house," he roared. "My hand is bloody fine." To demonstrate, he punched the wall again.

The wall properly punished for its transgressions, Alastor left his house and got absolutely pissed. Two Aurors took pity on him and brought him home. Part of him desperately hoped that Minerva had decided to stay, to work through their issues, but the sane part of him knew it would be best for Minerva if she escaped from him. When he staggered into his empty house, he knew that she was gone. That part of his soul that was her, that had been there since his first class in Herbology at Hogwarts was dead.

"I'm my father," Alastor wept. "I'm my bloody father."

-8-8-8-

The first year at Hogwarts was difficult as she thought of him constantly. There was a ginger haired Ravenclaw that could have been their child. An outcast Slytherin who didn't fit in anywhere except with a sympathetic Hufflepuff.

On her birthday, she was sitting in the Great Hall more a tad bit out of sorts. It was the first time in years that Alastor hadn't remembered her birthday. Briefly, she touched the rose pendant that she still wore and tried to fake a smile. Really, sobbing in the Great Hall in front of her students would be embarrassing.

There was a slight pop, and then a large murmur from the children. She looked up from her brekkie to see a House Elf carrying a large spray of flowers. It was a beautiful hand tied bouquet, full of roses. There was a definite wetness in her eyes as the colors matched what would have been in her bridal bouquet. The House Elf stopped in front of her and presented them to her.

"Flowers for Miss Professor McGonagall!"

She took them from the House Elf after thanking her for the delivery. And then Minerva had to wipe her eyes as she recognized the handwriting on the card. It was Alastor's handwriting, he hadn't forgotten. No, he hadn't forgotten at all, because it was almost word to word the same birthday greeting he had given her all those years ago.

"Thank you for being my partner in Herbology. Happy Birthday. Your friend, Alastor Moody."

And there was a postscript, "PS. I've stopped drinking."

-8-8-8-

They grew old together and the years faded the aching of their breakup. They could talk again and sometimes when the urge overtook them, they'd end up in bed together. They also fought a great deal. Minerva truly believed he had a death wish and he believed that she had turned into the proverbial spinster. Their friendship, however, remained strong even after Alastor advised her that he met someone new. That seeming equanimity to the end of their relationship didn't mean that she didn't return to Hogwarts and weep into her pillow. She had never stopped loving him, it had just been that she hadn't been strong enough to help him.

Alastor, the daft prat, wished them to meet, which she thought was absolute madness.

And Kingsley Shacklebolt was male, which was a definite surprise, and he was young, which was a direct hit to her ego, and he was _**serene**_. He had an easiness with Alastor that she had never managed to obtain.

Bloody handsome bloke too, with an easy smile, deep voice and a earring! An _**earring**_!

"This is Minerva. We've been great friends since Hogwarts. And this is Kingsley. He's putting up with me these days."

"Delighted," Minerva cooed.

"Charmed," was Kingsley's easy response.

Alastor thumped to the kitchen where he had prepared dinner, allowing Kingsley and Minerva to give each other the once over. A long look at each other, a mental tally of their time with Alastor compared to Alastor's history with their opponent and they non-verbally agreed that they'd never talk to each other again.

-8-8-8-

To Minerva's deep surprise, her belly continued to swell. Along with other body parts, which caused no end of embarrassment to Kingsley when he changed her after another accident. This time was a spilled cuppa. Fortunately the tea had long grown cold, else it would be hard to explain the burns on her burgeoning breasts.

"Come on," she gently mocked him. "You've never heard of the Bible verse, my cups overfloweth?"

"No, it's not a verse that my grandmother ever taught me," he easily admitted. "Plus I've never been face to face with cups that overfloweth as much as those have."

It had taken a great deal of time but she and Kingsley were developing a tentative friendship. Thank goodness, as she was utterly dependant on him. Originally, she had hoped to be allowed out of bed after she had passed her third month. Poppy had smiled at Minerva's rather naive optimistic request for a relase from bedrest and had advised her that she was having a girl. While Minerva had been reeling over the thought she was having a daughter and unable to voice much of a protest, Poppy had extended her bedrest for three more months.

Kinglsey struggled to keep her entertained, be it books or games. He refused to allow her access to The Daily Prophet as she grew angry after reading it in detail, pointing out the various articles that displayed how widespread Voldemort's control of the Ministry had been. Sometimes they'd talk about Alastor and Minerva found herself asking more and more about the enigma known as Kingsley.

"What is your grandmother's name?" It seemed that there was a baby to born from this madness, so perhaps it was time to discuss a name.

"Sara. However, Alastor's mother's name was Noreen," was his response. "They were quite close and it might be nice to honor her by using her name."

"We should combine them. How does Nora sound for a name? Or maybe Serena."

"Both are lovely," was all Kingsley would say.

"Which one do you prefer?" Minerva asked.

"No preference. You're doing all the hard work, so you get the final decision."

"Kingsley, you're carrying me from the bedroom to the porch and back again. I think that's pretty hard. Speaking of which, I'll glad to see that you changed the couch to a proper bed."

"I've gotten old. I used to sleep on that couch for years and I never woke up crippled." Kingsley assured her.

"Kingsley, please. Do you prefer Nora?" She ceased talking and put her hand on her belly.

"I'll get Poppy," Kingsley decided. He was already standing, ready to Disapparate to Hogwarts but Minerva stopped him with a quick wave of her hand.

"No, I don't need Poppy. I think the baby has decided that she wishes to be named Nora," Minerva explained. "I felt her just now. Put your hand next to mine."

He was slow to do so, and she reached for his hand and placed it on her stomach. "There. Did you feel _**that**_?"

_Come on, Nora. One little flutter so Kingsley can feel it. _

Nora decided to be cooperative, decided to wiggle about for a bit and Kingsley smiled. A true ear to ear smile.

"I felt that," he marveled. "I _**felt **_that. Hello, Nora. I'm Kingsley, I'm one of your fathers. I'm afraid that your other father can't be here, but I know he'd be so chuffed about you. He always wished to be a father."

Kingsley didn't even attempt to hide his tears.


	4. Severus

By her seven months of confinement, Minerva McGonagall had read every single book in creation at least once, with the books on transfiguration having being read through twice. The various fallacies in such books were underlined and thoroughly refuted in her aggrieved letters to the publishers. There was no excuse for shoddy scholarship! And while she couldn't actually OWL the letters at the present time, she'd remember their grievous errors.

Filius' substantial library held no more secrets and she wanted out of the bed. If she wasn't allowed out of her bed, she wished Kingsley in her bed. Her hormones were in flux and she wanted sex with a teenage desperation she hadn't experienced since her early days with Alastor.

Her supercharge libido certainly wasn't help by the fact that Kingsley swam starkers in the ocean every bloody morning. If she didn't know better, she'd swear that he was deliberately teasing a very hormonal pregnant woman. Would serve the bastard right if Kingsley was molested by a herd of oversexed selkies.

There was a knock on her door as Kingsley was due with her breakfast. In spite of his tendency of bathing, in full view of her window, absolutely starkers, he was quite punctual with her meals.

"Why do you insist on knocking?" Minerva asked.

"It's polite. May I come in?" Kingsley requested. "I hope you don't mind if I join you two today."

She murmured her agreement, and with his usual efficiency he set up breakfast for them. He sank to the floor so that they were at eye level.

"You should sit in a chair," Minerva protested. Really, why did he insist on sitting on the floor when they ate together?

"And that way you can have a chat with my crotch. I think not. My grandmother raised me proper," was Kinsley's quick witted response.

Minerva laughed. And she was rewarded with a quick flash of a smile from Kingsley. Really, he did have a lovely smile.

"Did you make Alastor laugh?" Minerva asked. The more time they spent together, the easier they grew with each other. Oh yes, she could understand why Alastor had been besotted with Kingsley. It wasn't just his lovely physique but his personality.

Kingsley was… soothing. He radiated composure and self-assurance. For a troubled man like Alastor, beset by his own personal demons who had never let him know self-peace, how could Alastor not find Kingsley utterly alluring and beguiling?

"Sometimes," was his slow response. "Not often enough as his father really screwed him up royal. Alastor always feared that he'd be the punch line of any joke. It was so bloody difficult to get behind his walls. I could only get so far and that was it. He claimed he was afraid that I wouldn't be interested in him if I knew the real Alastor. That he was a scared, feeble old man. I think he was frightened that I'd hurt him if he let me get too close. One day, you must tell me how you did it. "

Minerva explained, "His mother had just died and his father had quickly remarried. His stepmother liked setting his brother and him against each other. Henry was a lot younger, so he accepted Gwen as his mum but Alastor… Alastor was old enough to remember Noreen. He was horribly lonely when he came to Hogwarts. For some reason, he decided that he trusted me."

Now the difficult part, where Minerva explained to Kingsley why Alastor had been so wand shy with him.

"The reason why you couldn't too close to him was my fault. I really hurt him when I took my position at Hogwarts. I left him when he needed me the most, but I couldn't face his disappointment another day. He had started drinking after we lost the baby and once his father died… Henry barred him from the funeral and…Alastor hoped to find oblivion in the bottle and… I couldn't help him. "

At that point, she closed her eyes and swallowed.

"Nora doesn't need you to wallow in the past," Kingsley stated. He touched her belly carefully. "Nora needs you to remember the happy times with Alastor."

"I know, but I still feel guilty. He was self-destructing and I couldn't do anything. I couldn't stop it, I could barely function."

"Easy, Minerva. Easy," was his soothing response.

Kingsley's reassurance didn't work, and she cried like she was a homesick firstie on her first night at Hogwarts. Really, between the hormones and whatever else, she was just a frightful mess. To her surprise, Kingsley scrambled off the floor so he could sit next to her on the bed. He placed his hand on her back.

"I hate this. I just cry all the time," a teary Minerva hiccupped. "If it's not bad enough that I'm a hysterical bint, both you and Alastor have giant blood running in your veins. Because of you two, I'm having a baby the size of Hagrid. Next time, I'm having Filius father my baby. It will be a nice _**small **_baby."

"Nora is not Hagrid-sized," was Kingsley's all too calm response. "And I believe that Poppy may complain about Filius fathering a baby with you."

"So you think I'm _**hysterical**_?" was Minerva's retort.

Kingsley was a wise man and he knew not to answer that question.

"I believed that you're a little stressed, and there is a strong possibility that you're going stir crazy from being in bed for the last few months."

His hand was continuing to rub her back, and he shook his head.

"You're very tense. I learned something a while ago that helped Alastor with his back. Just relax," Kingsley insisted. He took a few pillows, positioned her just so and then began to run his hand up and down her back. "Poppy said this was safe."

She murmured something and Kingsley laughed. It was a warm, mellow laugh. "Are you purring?"

-8-8-8-

April 19th arrived and passed with no Nora, much to Minerva's intense displeasure and extreme discomfort. She had taken to marking down the days to Nora's due date on Kingsley's wall. In nice large markings suitable for a proper count down. Wisely, Kingsley had not said a word about her redecorating his wall. On April 20th, the zero had been replaced by a very hateful +1. The + 1 day taunted and mocked her as it threatened to turn into +2. Some may say it wasn't possible, for a scribbled number to mock a bed bound witch, but they weren't on their thirtieth week of bedrest with no end in sight. Her feet were not in sight either, as she was gestating a Hagrid sized baby and its twin.

"Poppy," Minerva tartly reminded her friend as Poppy clucked about, making approving noises about the size of Minerva's belly. "Yesterday was my due date."

Really, Poppy was a trained midwife and she could easily correct the slight problem with the baby not arriving on its much anticipated day. Perhaps a spell, perhaps a potion, perhaps something that would kick start the process. And because Poppy was a compassionate soul, she'd do it_** right now.**_

"I do believe that you're correct," Poppy admitted. "According to the conception date, we calculated your due date to be yesterday. However, first time babies sometimes show up a week or two late. Don't worry, Minerva, everything will be just fine. Her head is down, her bum is up, she's in the position to be born."

"She didn't arrive, Poppy," was the tart reminder from one very exhausted Minerva McGonagall. The much feared Eagle-Eyed Transfiguration Professor of Hogwarts then focused on her victim, the man on whom she was currently blaming her discomfort. Well, there was another man she was blaming but he was dead, and it wasn't quite as satisfying to skewer a dead man. "Don't you laugh at me, Kingsley Shacklebolt. _**Don't you dare."**_

"Poppy, I understand that Minerva was on bedrest to prevent an early delivery," Kingsley explained. "Do you think it would be now safe for her to get out of bed? Perhaps, a walk on the beach? She could dip her feet in the water? I'll be right beside her to make sure she doesn't overdo it."

Poppy mentally debated while Minerva turned beseeching eyes on the Medwitch. Thankfully, Minerva didn't see Kingsley mouth a sincere thank you to Filius Flitwick for his suggestion. Filius had been through this before and he felt a kinship with the increasingly flustered Kingsley. Really, Minerva was getting scarier as the day lengthened.

"Kingsley, can you get her dressed? Filius and I will set up tea on your porch," Poppy suggested.

-8-8-8-

He helped her change in something presentable. For Minerva, whose wardrobe was quite limited due to her expanded equator, something presentable was a rather plain dashiki that Kingsley had bought for Alastor. The outfit was completed with matching drawn string pants. Moody had consented to wear it twice and then he had promptly 'misplaced' it. The change of clothes completed, Kingsley brushed her unruly hair and tamed it into a loose braid that hung over one shoulder. He assisted her into a sitting position on the edge of the bed and then he sat down next to her.

"You look exhausted," he informed her. His voice was quite soft and concerned. With gentle fingers, he brushed a few strands of misbehaving hair away from her face.

"I am," she admitted.

"Don't overdo it. I know how you are," he insisted. "Don't attempt to slay any dragons today."

With his left arm, he carefully embraced Minerva. The exhausted witch leaned into his hug and softly sighed.

"Kingsley, thank you. I never truly believed that I'd get this far. I know that Poppy said there would be the three of us, but I still couldn't believe…I'm sorry for being such a foul harpy. I know that I couldn't have done this without you."

Her reward was a warm smile from Kingsley. "I bet Alastor is bloody amused. He's chortling like a madman because the two of us finally learned to get along."

"Damn the man," Minerva said, her voice full of deep affection for Alastor. "Had to die just so you and I would stop being jealous of each other."

She was still smiling at Kingsley when she realized that he was down on one knee in front of her. He had a small box in his hand and he opened it. There were two rings, one that sparkled in the early morning light.

"Will you bond me, Minerva McGongall?" Kingsley's tone was quite serious. "I want Nora to have my name."

"Kingsley, she might not be yours," a touched Minerva reminded him. "She might be Alastor's daughter."

"I don't care. I don't want our daughter to be considered a bastard. You know how they'll view her if her parents are not properly bonded when she's born. Damn the parochial society we live in. So concerned about blood and propriety that they've long since lost track of what is truly important."

"They'll talk if…" Minerva paused. She didn't wish to mention it but if Alastor was the father, it was unlikely anyone would believe that Kingsley was Nora's true father.

"Her skin isn't mocha?" Kingsley asked. "They will talk. They'll talk if her skin is light, dark or zebra-striped with green polka dots. They'll wonder if her father was a Muggleborn Auror or was he the greatest Auror ever, but it doesn't matter. Nora will always know that we both love her. Alastor isn't here, let me continue to shoulder his responsibility in this."

"Kingsley," Minerva protested. "It's a wonderful gesture however…"

"I know, you don't love me. Not the way you did Alastor, but I'm not asking for that. You don't have to take my name or share my bed, Minerva. Please let me father Nora. Yes, I had my grandfather to raise me, but it wasn't my _**father**_. Alastor didn't have a proper father. You know how important a father is to a little girl. Don't deny her that, please?"

His sincerity swayed her and she held out her hand.

"Yes, I will bond you, Kingsley."

-8-8-8-

"Who is my beautiful girl?" Kingsley cooed to Nora. The baby wasn't having any mindless chitchat as she widely yawned. Her dark eyes, so much like her father's, finally closed as she finally fell asleep. He put her down in her cot and he sighed. Nora had picked up her parents' anxiety over what was to happen in the skies of Little Whinging that day and she had been rather stroppy. It had taken hours of rocking by both her parents before she had finally fallen asleep.

"Don't, Kingsley. I know what you're thinking, but _**don't**_." Minerva McGonagall advised him. Her tone was compassionate and understanding because she knew the agony Kinsley was facing. "You _**can't**_ because you _**didn't**_."

"Minerva." Kingsley pleaded with her.

"There is nothing you can do. You can't possibly save Alastor. He was hit by the Killing Curse, Kingsley. Noreen wasn't there to prevent the Curse from killing him." She took Kingsley's hand and pulled him toward the living room. They were still fumbling their way through their new relationship so she wasn't sure how to console him. They hadn't consummated their bonding, which wasn't surprisingly as Minerva, while in the throes of hard labor, _had _threatened to castrate him. That tended to put a damper on carnal enjoyment. Yet these days, the two of them were emotionally closer than Alastor would have ever believed possible. All because of that cranky little girl who was sleeping in her cot.

Sometimes, they'd spoon and there was kissing and touching.

"Tell me about Alastor," she requested. "Tell me about your first date with him. He approached you? Did you know that he fancied you?"

Kingsley flashed her a quick, embarrassed smile. "No, I didn't even think that. He was bloody Alastor Moody… and I was barely out of training."

-8-8-8-

Alastor Moody was flying over the skies of Little Whinging, trying to juggle all the pieces. Kingsley on his bloody Thestral had nearly knocked him tit over arse when the Thestral had launched himself in the air. Would have preferred Kingsley on a broom as the man could fly, but Hermoine couldn't fly to save Potter's life.

Tonks was in flight, Arthur was there, Hagrid was with the real Harry. Really, it was bloody brilliant plan, he was flying around with a BIG X on his chest because You Know Who wouldn't believe that they'd send Harry Potter off with only Hagrid to protect him. No, they'd come after Alastor Moody because Alastor was deem himself as the only one capable of defending Potter.

There was one problem with his plan. That bastard Voldemort was _**flying**_.

Mundungus, the coward, fled.

Voldemort aimed and Alastor accepted he was a dead man. The edge of the spell destroyed his broom and he fell from the skies. His wand was shattered as was his remaining leg. There was no getting out of this alive, he knew. It was easily a thousand feet to the ground, so he cursed a desperate prayer to a God he hoped was listening.

_**Dear God, I'd deeply appreciate if you could put your attention to ensuring that Minerva and Kingsley would finally learn to get along. You might need to kick them in the arse a few times but I'd greatly appreciate it. **_

He finished his heartfelt prayer mere moments before he hit the ground with a bone shattering thud.

-8-8-8-

Severus Snape was busy cursing Albus Dumbledore for his stupidity in trying on a cursed ring. Damn the man for dying. Damn the bastard for putting him in this position. He had nearly killed one of the bloody Harrys in his attempt to defend them, and now he was struggling to find Alastor Moody's body before anyone else did.

Severus had never liked the man. However, Severus Snape knew that Minerva McGonagall held a certain fondness for Alastor, which proved there was no accounting for taste. But for Minerva's sake, he'd find Alastor Moody before anyone else did so they couldn't turn him into an Inferni. Maybe he'd earn a few points on his Karma. At this point in his life, he needed any points he could acquire as he was so beyond doomed to be past redemption.

To his horror, he found Alastor Moody. The bastard was choking on his own blood but he was still alive, glaring balefully at him. His body was shattered but the old warrior was still fighting.

_Kill me, _Alastor mouthed. The pink foam meant that he had punctured a lung which meant that his heart most likely was in bad shape.

He couldn't kill Alastor, Severus' soul was stained with one mercy killing already. Instead, Severus Snape cast a multitude of spells. Tyre marks that led to nowhere, necessary to make it appear as though Alastor had escaped so to send the Death Eaters on a wild Alastor chase. A spell that triaged the worst of the old warrior's wounds, pulling the bone shards out of his organs and staunching his internal bleeding. His final spell dropped Alastor Moody in front of the entrance to a hospital's casualty ward. Maybe the bastard would live, maybe he wouldn't, but he had a better chance with Muggle medicine than at St. Mungo's.

That done, Severus Snape picked up Alastor's fake eye. It glared balefully at him as he pocketed it.

He'd present it to Voldemort as proof that if the man survived, he was severely incapacitated.

It was the best Severus Snape could do, and he hoped one day Minerva would appreciate that he had done all he could.


	5. In the Ward

He couldn't breathe. No, he was drowning in his own blood. And that black hearted bastard was standing there, looking down on him. He couldn't breathe and at this stage in his life, it was unlikely that Alastor would suddenly develop a liking for erotic asphyxiation. He was beginning to panic, as the urge to breathe was overwhelming him. His all consuming need to suck in some air was all he could focus on and he couldn't think of any spells to help him.

_How long before I die? I have four to six minutes before I die. I never realized how long four minutes truly is..._

Damn it, he had decided to leave his ring for Kingsley. Lee would find it once he went home, but right now, with his death staring him in the face, wearing Severus Snape's face, Alastor wished he was still wearing the platinum ring. Really, his biggest fear wasn't that he'd die; but that Lee would be left alone. Fool boy had gotten involved with Alastor, who had brought him nothing but self-doubts and insecurities. As he had destroyed Minerva, so he had nearly destroyed Kingsley.

_Kill me_, he mouthed at Severus. It was a plea for a quick, honest death. Severus had done it for Albus, might he not do the same for Alastor?

But a quick, easy kill was not what Severus had planned. Instead, Alastor Moody silently screamed as he felt his bones re-knit together. He could breathe now, barely, due to the pain in his chest, but Severus wasn't happy. Instead, a quick snap of Severus' wand, and Alastor Moody found himself lying in the middle of a road. Someone was screaming loudly and to his surprise, he realized that he was the one screaming. Everything hurt, including areas he didn't know he possessed.

So many voices, all loud and clangorous.

"Where the hell did he show up from?" "I don't know! I don't know. I was smoking a fag and there he was!" "Someone did a runner and dumped him."

There was someone who was clamped onto his head so he couldn't move.

"What's your name, guv?" The clamper's tonal inflection was lilting, much like Lee's intonation was when the younger man decided to stop being proper.

"Al..." was all Alastor could manage.

"Al, you're in really bad shape now, but I'll take good care of you. I need to put down a tube down your throat so you can breathe. Promise me that you won't grab for it?"

Bloody hell, he had fallen in with the Muggles. He didn't know a damn thing about Muggles... didn't know anything about what they considered medicine.

"Once, I put the tube down your throat, Al, it will be so much easier for you to breathe. Because we'll be doing everything, you just concentrate on staying with me, Al. I'll be with you every step of the way, Al."

"He's got a flail chest, looks like we've got compound femur fractures both legs along with a tib fib fracture. I'm also betting we've got a Lefort III fracture. Need a type and screen, complete set of bloods. We'll need blood and lots of it." That was a female voice who was snapping orders right and left. "Tell them we'll probably need the operating theatre. We'll take good care of you, Al."

"Bloody hell, he looks like he went abbing without a rope."

"I don't believe that Al went abseiling, Smitty." The woman was definitely Scottish as there was a snap in her tone. "Best get the poli here, advise him we've got a victim of an assault. Or a defenestration, but I'm not sure what bloody window he fell from."

-8-8-8-8

"Oi!" The radiographer announced loudly as he slapped the xray on the screen. "Will you look at that jigsaw puzzle!"

Anna Chalmers, physician, glared at the radiographer and then whistled when she realized what she was seeing.

"He didn't abseil without a cable," she finally decided. "He fell out of airplane sans chute. That's the only way that would explain the damage. But he should be dead from his old injuries, but he's not."

"His liver should be lacerated, and his lung punctured in half dozen locations. But the meat inside his skull is what I'm worried about. We've got a bleed to deal with," inserted Kwasi St. James, the physician who had intubated Alastor. "Lots of facial scarring, and the eye. That's old so he's probably had his fair share of head trauma in the past. However, we need to move quick on him, Anna, he's becoming obtunded."

"So we have a one-eyed, one legged man who decides to take a dive out of a plane without a parachute into the middle of the car park of the local trauma center. Not only that, but he is fortunate enough to be greeted by two trauma surgeons who had just popped out of the ward in order to get some fresh air. Either somebody doesn't like Al, or his guardian angel deserves a raise," decided Anna.

"The theatre is ready, let's go talk to him."

-8-8-8-8

It had taken all his strength for him to latch onto his Michael the Archangel pendant. Minerva had given it to him when he had gotten accepted into the Auror program and he had never taken it off. Even when Barty had him in the trunk, he had kept it hidden. Kept it safe.

Everything hurt. Even his missing lower leg was screaming in agony. But his head, it hurt the worst. And he couldn't move it as it seemed that it was strapped down.

Bugger, bugger, bugger, couldn't they give him a potion for the pain?

No, they couldn't as the Muggles were taking care of him. Had Severus sent him here so to give him a slow, painful death? No, Albus had trusted Severus... and Albus had layers upon layers of trickery covering his plans. For all Alastor knew, Albus might have told Severus to off him in some sort of grand scheme to cement Severus' place among the Death Eaters.

He floated in a sea of pain, wishing and praying for the pain to ease. There had been... Albus... who had anointed him as Alastor prepared for this final battle.

_"Through this holy anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up."_

"Hate to do this," said a female, "But he's not responding to us anymore and the priest said that he only briefly aware during the Viaticum. Substernal notch rub; that should rouse him."

New discomfort in his chest and he opened his eyes to moan a feeble protest. He wasn't sure where he was or why Lee and Minerva staring down at him? Least they were here, and they weren't fighting. He must be dead or close to dying for the two of them to get along. Really, they were the best part of his life but it was bloody annoying how they just wouldn't get along. Really, he couldn't understand why the two of them disliked each other so. It wasn't as though he was a prize suitable for causing jealousy twixt them.

"Al, can you hear me?" Minerva asked him. "Blink if you can hear me."

An eye blink was all he could manage."You've got a bleed. It's called an acute subdural hematoma and it's from whatever happened to you. We need to do surgery on you else you _**will**_ die. As it is, Al, you're really in bad shape. Kwasi and I will be operating on you. We're doing a Craniotomy to remove the bone shards from your brain. That means, we're taking part of skull and removing it. We should be able to put it back, but it depends on the pressure in your brain," Minerva explained.

Minerva and Kingsley were playing Healer with him? Not in a good, let's take off all our clothes with you in the middle way, but let's remove part of your skull? Really, he had lost what few brains he had possessed. Probably leaked out his ear.

Lee shook his head, his gold earrings glinting in the light. "I don't think you're making any sense to him. Al, Anna and I, we will be operating on you. We will take very good care of you. Is there anyone we should contact?"

The damn tube in his throat made it impossible to talk. So he pointed at them.

"You wish to notify _**us**_?" Minerva tartly asked. "Well, _**yes**_, we've been notified."

Another eye blink even while his body began to move. The ceiling tiles were fading in and out on him.

A new voice. "We found two pictures in one of his jacket' pockets. One is of a gentleman who looks a little bit like Dr. St. James and the other is a woman."

"Any information on them?" questioned Lee. "Is there a name? Something the poli can use to find out who he is?"

"There's nothing on the pictures, but I swear, I think the pictures are moving. They won't stay still! However, the poli think his medallion means he was a copper somewhere, but they've never seen that particular Michael pendant with those sigils before. They're contacting all the various police stations to see if anyone might know him."

"Al, we have to take your necklace off. After the surgery I'll put it back on."

He groaned a protest and Minerva leaned over him. "I promise, I will pin it to my uniform and I will put it back on after your surgery."

Everything went dark then.

-8-8-8-8

Kingsley and Minerva were watching the sun set from the porch. They were spooned on the lounge and then, to Minerva's surprise, Kingsley kissed her on the ear.

"You know what's happening?" was his soft jest. "Nora is being conceived in Scotland right now. She's really become such a cornerstone of my life in these past few months."

Minerva was pulled closer to Kingsley. "Two months," he reminded her. "I know that there is no possible way to convince you not to go back there to that pit of Death Eaters, but I will miss you both. Be safe, Minerva as I will worry so."

Another kiss was bestowed and Minerva murmured her disappointment when Kingsley decided to sit.

"We're getting a little too cozy, Minerva." Kingsley explained. "I'm only human, you know. And I made promises when you agreed to bond me that I wouldn't force you into bed."

"I know," Minerva assured him. "However I desire to take this discussion to someplace more comfortable, like the bed. I'd like the lights off though."

That was admitted slowly because she was still quite uncomfortable with her new mommy body. Her body hadn't snapped back to its original condition, which wasn't a surprise to Minerva as she was a mature witch. Still the new Minerva with its various drooping and sagging parts and no longer as firm areas was really unnerving especially with the much younger Kingsley. Yet, she liked it when they cuddled.

"Don't be so self-conscious, Minerva. It's really a quite marvelous body, as you grew our daughter in it. I desire a chance to show my deep appreciation for all its hard work during the last year." Kingsley stretched like he was large cat and he kissed her once more on her ear. "Besides, all those mornings I swam starkers just for your carnal enjoyment, you _**owe**_ me. I swam starkers at great risk to myself...just to give you an eyeful."

Minerva laughed as the mock aggrieved Kingsley explained in further detail. "There are jellyfish out there, and sea lice...plus the risk of sun burn in vital areas!"

They stopped laughing and then Minerva shook her head.

"Kingsley," she began.

"I don't like making love in the dark, as though it's something shameful. I do not like when my partner wishes to hide in the shadows because they fear my reaction to a wobbly bit or a scar. I'm not that shallow, Minerva. Please trust me," Kingsley requested.

Bloody hell, he was just so damn sincere!

"I have never thought you were superficial, Kingsley," Minerva assured him.

-8-8-8-8-8

Anna Chalmers snapped her chart closed. It had been a long shift and it was finally over. Alas, the fates decided to disagree.

"Doctor? Your patient in Ward C seems to be rousing." The clerk advised her. "I've advised Dr. St. James and he'll be here momentarily."

Dr. Chalmers thanked the clerk and trotted at a swift pace down to the ward where Al was located. Normally, Al would have been transferred to another facility as it was two months after his accident. However for some reason, his transfer never took place as the paperwork was always misplaced or the transfer denied. It was only many of the odd occurrences that happened around the mystery man in the solitary ward.

His hair grew at an alarming rate, which was problematic due to the halo he wore due to his fractured neck. They'd go in, shave it down to skin level so they could keep his pins and screws clean and the next day, his hair would be back as a shaggy mane. Plus there were more than a few souls that swore that they couldn't enter the ward, as though some invisible force was keeping them out of it.

Dr. Chalmers had seen it with her very own eyes, how some people wouldn't be able to enter the ward. It was though they were stopped at the gate by an invisible hand. Yet when she took them by the arm and walked them through the door, they could enter the room.

And the people in his pictures _**moved**_. As a lark, Kwasi had picked up some frames for the pictures so they were on display on his nightstand. She could see them out of the corner of her eye...how the dark skinned man and the woman kept popping their heads into the frame to watch her as though they were guarding Al. The man she believed to be a young Al glared at her with his arms crossed. For good measure, she stuck her tongue out at him, which earned her a startled glance and then the most ferocious scowl.

And she didn't even wish to discuss Al's unusual results on his CT scans. When they could get them that was!

They had to shut down the unit for unscheduled maintenance every time they gave Al a CT scan to see how his vertebrae were healing. After the third incident, which involved the entire radiology wing losing power due to a mysterious short in the system, they gave it up as a loss cause. Kwasi being quite the wit, decided that the unconscious Al didn't wish to have a scan and it would safer for all if they just honored his request. As it was, she and Kwasi, over a few too many pints, had declared that Al was some sort of real life Uri Geller and vowed to keep all the metal spoons in the unit far, far away.

She entered his ward, half-expecting as always, to be denied entrance. Not that she ever had been but the stories surrounding Al were growing by leaps and bounds.

"Good morning, Al. It's Anna," she announced. It was though he recognized her as the temper in his ward changed to something less fortified to a mood that was almost welcoming. "They say you might be waking. I figured I'd sit here for a bit, look you over. When that's done, I'll have a cuppa and a long chinwag. Feel to wake and tell me to shut it."

"Your hair has grown back. Again." Anna tsk'd her disapproval. "We will need to shave it down, so we can keep an eye on your pins. You have to tell me what your secret is so I can sell it to the public. However, your pins are clean, which makes me happy as I don't wish an infection. We're hoping we can take off your halo in a few weeks, along with your external fixators on your legs. Your bones are healing nicely, Al, however your brain is still in Barbados on vacation."

Kwasi popped in then and started chatting with Al. Anna had noticed that when she and Kwasi were in the room together, the atmosphere was quite relaxed. It was though an unconscious Al had decided since they were both in the room, he was safe and sound. However, Kwasi had remarked how that two of them could never even have a mock disagreement in front of Al as the mood in the ward grew tense, as though Al was unhappy.

"Hello, Al. It's Kwasi. I think it's time you stopped playing Sleeping Beauty, as I'm sure you have people that are looking for you. It's the last week in September and you've been asleep since July."

The mood shifted as though Al was fearful and Anna jumped in quickly. "Yes, those two people in the picture must be quite concerned."

A comatose Al seemed to relax and Anna touched his face.

"Look at those scars on his face. Plastics did a lousy job on his face," she tsked. "It looks like they just were content to close the wound. No pride in their work."

The two physicians chatted for a bit and they were rewarded with their patient opening his eyes. It was no surprise to either of them that he panicked when he realized he was Halo'd. They had to grab his hands to prevent him from yanking it off his head.

"Al... Al... you broke your neck in a few spots when you were injured," Kwasi explained. He kept his deep voice soft and soothing as he found people responded well to that. "We had to immobilize you to keep your neck in position so your fractures would heal. Please relax."

While Kwasi was being soothing and reassuring, Anna handed it in a more direct fashion. She hit him with a few happy drugs so Al would calm down. When the drugs entered his system, Al stopped panicking and he relaxed back onto his pillow.

"I gave you something to take the edge off," Anna explained to Al's look of what could only be betrayal. "We don't wish you to undo all of your healing as you were badly hurt. Now, Al. We're going to ask you a few questions. I hope that's fine with you."

"Water," he barked, as though he was used to being obeyed. And for a wonder, the physicians both jumped to attention.

"Let's give you an ice chip for now." Kwasi used a spoon, thankfully plastic, to deliver the payload. Al closed his eyes and sucked for a bit.

"Better?" Anna asked.

"More?"Al asked. Then he added, "Please?"

Kwasi nodded and then Anna asked the question they had been wondering for the last two months.

"What's your name, Al?

"Isn't it Al?" he asked. He seemed to be puzzled by their question. "That's what you're calling me."

"That's all we know about you. What's your last name, Al?"

"I don't know," he informed them after a long deliberate pause. "I remember falling and that's it. Everything else... it's not there."

"Well, that's understandable," Kwasi assured their patient. "You bruised your brain so sometimes this happens. Let's talk about what happened. We found you in the car park so we think someone dumped you there. Do you have any idea how you got there?"

His eyes narrowed as though he was trying to remember. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear I've been Oblivated. I think... someone got me here..."

"Oblivated? Do you mean your memory's obliterated? You shouldn't think that, it's quite possible that it will come back in time."

Again, the narrowing of his eyes, "Yes, that's what I meant. Everything's a jumble right now. Where am I? Doesn't look like my usual spot in the ward. And I'm assuming you two are Healers?"

"Physicians, actually. You're in a ward as you appeared in the car park of a trauma center. I'm Kwasi St. James and the Jock is Anna Chalmers."

"I prefer the term Scottish, not Jock, Kwasi," the woman snipped. "And you have a usual spot in a ward? I'm not surprised seeing how banged up you were."

"I so wish you would get along. Is it truly necessary for me to die for you two to finally bury the axe?" a knackered Al informed them. "It seems familiar that I'm in a hospital bed, yet, not here. How long have I been... here? It must have been a while, as you've got a few new earrings, Lee. Does Rufus approve? Probably not as he had the proverbial cow when you had the first one."

"I've had these for years, Al. And my name is Kwasi, not Lee. Is Lee the man in the photo?" Kwasi picked up something and handed it to Al. "You had two pictures in your jacket. One of a man and one was you and a woman. They were found in an internal pocket, so when the jacket was closed, they'd be over your heart."

Al stared at the photo and he placed his hand on the photo. Anna and Kwasi exchanged startled glances when they realized that the man in the photo seemed to be reaching for Al.

"I'm not sure. What happened to my legs?"

"You fractured your legs in multiple locations. We had to externally pin them so they'd heal."

"I can't walk. I can't bloody turn my head and I can't walk. Where is my leg?" Al seemed ready to jump out of his bed and investigate his surroundings, so Anna was thankful that they hadn't called for a Prosthetist consultation.

"You were missing it when you arrived. It looks to be an old wound."

Anna took another syringe and administered it to a port in Al's intravenous line.

"What did you give me? They're coming after me..." protested Al.

"Who is coming after you?" Kwasi asked.

"I don't _**know**_."

-8-8-8-8

"Take care of our daughter," Kingsley instructed Minerva. "Don't do anything reckless and make sure you get enough sleep. Let Nessie the House Elf help you with Nora. You don't have to do everything for Nora and Filius has vouched for Nessie."

"Should I take my vitamins, too?" Minerva retorted.

Kingsley quirked a smile at her and nodded his head in approval. "Yes, you _**should**_. Poppy, make sure she takes her vitamins."

The duo stared into each other's eyes, and deliberately ignored Filius' quip of 'They've come so far in the last year. I really thought Minerva desired to castrate him in the beginning.'

"Don't take on Severus," Kingsley continued. "You need anything, call my name, and I will appear."

"Don't do anything noble," Minerva reminded Kingsley. "You know what Alastor always said."

"Noble means stupid, which means dead," they exclaimed together. That truism exchanged, the two hugged each other before Kingsley kissed her. It was a long passionate kiss, which led a breathless Minerva needing support.

"Why don't you ever kiss me like that, Filius?" a mournful Poppy questioned.

"Alas, the height difference," the irrepressible Filius quipped. "Spirit is willing but the flesh is too short. I might drop you. However, your question brings up an interesting conjecture - Why don't you kiss me like that?"

"Oh hush, Filius," the mediwitch insisted. "We have to make sure everything's been properly planned. We got this far, but now the tough part begins. Getting the baby into Hogwarts and keeping it a secret."

"Severus keeps offering to visit," Filius advised Minerva. "I think he cares."

"Probably has paperwork he needs to complete," was Minerva's sage response.

"She looks too healthy," Filius informed Poppy. "She's _**glowing**_. That's not how she looked on Friday when we started this timey-wimey, weebly-wobbly time paradox of ours."

"Blame Kingsley for that," Minerva informed Filius. While her words were tart, her voice was quite soft. She and Kingsley were still staring into each other's eyes and yes, Minerva was blushing. And Kingsley was looking quite pleased with himself.

"It's not my fault if you're glowing," was Kingsley's response. "I made sure that there will be no more siblings for Nora."

Yes, Minerva was most assuredly blushing.

"I have a Lurgy Lollipop that I confiscated from the Weasley Twins," Filius informed Poppy. "We give it to her on Sunday morning, and when we arrive at Hogwarts on Sunday afternoon, she won't look quite as healthy. Oi! They really are besotted with each other."

"I remember how furious she was when you contacted Kingsley," giggled Poppy.

-8-8-8-8

Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, smoothed open the map of Hogwarts. It displayed everyone who was in residence at the facility and all the various assorted rooms. Interesting enough he had noticed that Minerva's quarters had developed a small room over the weekend.

Plus she had acquired a new House Elf by the name of Nessie who once was Filius' personal House Elf. Really, Filius had a few personal House Elves that he had acquired over the years, but he rarely lent them out as though they were a pair of shoes. Hopelessly daft bugger; that was Filius. God knew how Severus missed him as now that Severus T. Snape was the The Enemy and The Killer of All that was Good and Purple, Filius no longer talked to him.

He was staring at Minerva's quarters when there were two arrivals noted in the small room. Nessie the House Elf was the first newcomer and then a Nora Shacklebolt arrived. He looked at the clock on the wall, realized that Minerva was due to shortly return to Hogwarts. His attempts to determine Minerva's health were not so politely rebuffed but hell, he had tried.

"I'd like to speak to Albus alone, please," Severus ordered. He ignored the complaints from the various painted Headmaster and Headmistresses and turned his dark hooded eyes onto Albus Dumbledore.

"Nora Shacklebolt?" Severus questioned. "No shamming old man. Who is she?"

"I don't know. Is she related to Kingsley?" Albus asked. "Is she in the real book of Hogwarts students?"

The real book held the name of every potential student, as opposed to the fake book that contained only Pureblood names. It had several sections including students by date of birth and students by last name.

Severus opened the book and found the listing for Shacklebolts. There were a total of two, one was Kingsley and one was Nora who had been born the previous year on April 28. What he did next violated thousands of years' worth of tradition as he tapped the book with his wand and demanded the parentage of the child be revealed.

When it was unveiled, he nearly died from shock and became a painted portrait then and there.

"Albus?" A rather flummoxed Severus questioned. "Did you know that _**Minerva**_ was _**pregnant**_?"

"I know that she had a miscarriage before she started teaching here. It was a very painful subject and she rarely mentioned it."

"No, she gave birth to Nora Shacklebolt in April. Are you telling me you _**didn't**_ know?" Severus questioned. "I understand that you lack familiarity with breeding females, and you were busy dying from a cursed ring, but you truly didn't notice that your second in command was _**pregnant**_?"

"No!" Albus admitted. "She and _**Kingsley**_?"

Severus didn't answer that question as the dot representing Minerva McGonagall appeared at the Hogwarts' Main Gate. Really, as Headmaster, he should greet here and grill her. Because how the hell was he supposed to keep Minerva alive if she was running around having children?

-8-8-8-8

Minerva sat in the wheelchair, not even pretending to be a chipper soul. Filius had made her partake of the Lurgy lollipop and she was feeling distinctively under the weather. Then, naturally, the prince of Darkness aka Severus Snape, made a command appearance. Black, flowing cape, children screaming in terror and puppy dogs piddling in fear.

"I'm afraid I'm still alive," she informed him.

"You got some sun, I see," Severus informed her. "A woman of your age should know to wear a hat."

Really that deserved an immediate Hex to his groin, but Minerva truly didn't feel well. So she settled for a wintry smile.

"I'd like to return to my quarters," she regally requested.

Damn him, he looked damn amused about something. She knew him pretty well after all these years, and he was bloody mentally cackling about something. However, Minerva was in no condition to deal with him. She was quite grateful to be tucked into bed by Poppy. Really, she should have checked on Nora, but Nessie had everything quite under control. The little House Elf was obviously quite besotted with Nora. Her devotion was working in her favor, as Minerva firmly believed that no one sane could resist Nora's toothless smile.

She was drowsing in her all too lonely bed when she realized that she had a visitor. A silvery lynx patronus who was lying next to her on the bed. The big cat was guarding her and she scratched him behind his left ear.

"Don't get caught," she whispered.

"There is no way that I could not check on you," the lynx informed her. "Go to sleep, I'll keep watch over you two for now."

-8-8-8

The next day in the ward, Anna was greeted by a very concerned Kwasi. He grabbed her by her arm and escorted her towards Ward C. Things must have gone arse over tit, as he wasn't even attempting to be appear cool and collected.

"We're having problems with Al," he hissed. "Somehow, he removed all of the external fixators from his legs. I'm trying to convince him that we need a set of radiographs stat. And I've given enough sedatives to knock out a heard of pachyderms and he's still awake."

"The halo?" Anna asked.

"Still on, but his screws are loose. By that, I mean his _**mental**_ screws, not his titanium screws in his skull. He's talking but he's making no sense to me because he's nattering about a ring. Plus we're missing one of the damn screws from his leg."

"Why are you getting me involved?" was Anna's plaintive request.

"For reason, moody Al trusts you and me. Perhaps, if you and I ask him to please behave we can prevent him breaking his neck. He's scaring everyone in the ward again. Lights are flickering, the computer printer blew up and we're getting sparks from the various machines. It's _**him**_. Whenever he gets rattled, something happens to the electricity."

"Going in!" Anna announced and she barged into the ward. Much to her intense displeasure, Al's hands were around his halo and around the bloody screws. "Are you bloody _**mad**_, man? Are you trying to cripple yourself?"

Fortunately when face to face with an angry Celtic Warrior, Al stopped misbehaving. Someone must have drilled into his subconscious in his earlier life, "Thou shall not piss off a Scot and live".

"It's itchy," was his weak protest. "It's really, really irritated and I need to scratch."

"Al," growled Anna. "How did you remove the fixators from your legs?"

"They just unscrewed themselves." Al explained. "They were really itchy and I wished that my legs were healed so they could be unscrewed. And they popped off! They _**unscrewed**_ themselves."

Really, Anna was wishing for a wee dram or three by now. "We normally need a Hex screwdriver to remove those screws. So you are telling me that these screws unscrewed themselves after you wished them to undo themselves?"

"Yes," Al insisted. In a softer voice, he insisted, 'I'd never lie to you. You know I have always been honest with you. I have, haven't I? I think?"

The physician looked at her coworker and shrugged her shoulders. "_What now, Einstein?"_ was her unspoken request.


	6. Lynx

_Alastor was flying. And then he wasn't. _

_Instead he was falling, falling, falling… and the ground was coming towards him at an unholy rate of speed… one….. Two…THREE..._

Before he hit the ground, he woke, screaming. And he was being restrained, as though he was trapped in a box and… he couldn't escape and… he had to fight his way and…he had to get out…and they had restrained him and he had to get out… had to get out… because he wouldn't be trapped again. What had they done to him, he couldn't move his neck and he couldn't... and his head hurt and... and...they had restrained him and where... where was his... _**wand**_?

"AL! Bloody hell, he's removing the halo! I need to knock him out…" the dark wizard garbled some sort of potion ingredient. Al felt a pinch, a burn and then… nothingness as his limbs refused to cooperate. "Anna, how _**much**_ did you give him? Enough to keep him calm long enough to get a CT scan?"

"Now that he's not trying to kill us, we can give him something intravenously and keep him happy," said a woman. "How's the screws?"

"We may have to readjust the brace and his neck. Let's see what the scan shows. Al…_**AL**_?"

A blissful Alastor was in bed, sated and content. He looked distinctively post-coital, what with the disheveled sheets bunched around his middle and his bemused grin. The effect was completely ruined by his halo and the vast array of scars that crisscrossed his frame.

"How _**much **_did you _**give **_him? His eyes are rolled back in his head," the man protested.

"Hopefully enough to keep Al quiet while we do the CT scan. He is a big boy," the woman reminded her cohort. "Let's give him a scan, figure out if we need the screwdriver and can opener and while we're at it, let's check his vest. Nobody will wish to give him a flannel bath after this so let's give him one."

* * *

_He was coming home to Lee. Bearing assorted delicacies from Barbados for Lee and a small vial of dragon blood. Just a thimbleful, enough so that he'd be able to perform because the young man wished it and... he wasn't really sure if he __**could**__...and he couldn't do __**that**__. It was horrible enough to go to another and bed her... just to prove to himself that he was still capable. Failing with her wouldn't be so bad... because he had already failed her so many times over the years, but failing with him...Lee wouldn't want to be stuck with a feeble old man. He'd want someone younger, someone that... wouldn't get overpowered by two men... someone who could give him what he wanted... _

_He gulped down the blood quickly, too quickly as his heart began racing. It was a fire in his veins, warming away the chill of his captivity. Oh Merlin, let it be enough. He was too damn old to be risking dragon's blood. Too old, too crippled, too fat to be bedding Lee. _

"_I've got to get him in bed. I must get him in bed," was his obsessive mantra. Then he roundly cursed himself. "Pull yourself together, you stupid fat bugger! He's been patient... too patient... You can't let him leave just because you can't get it up..."_

_He arrived home and he saw Lee. A despondent Lee who was talking to himself. _

"_I need my head examined. I know __**where**__ he is... I know __**who**__ he's with... and I let him do this to me...He won't even let me touch him... and it's been too long since we shared a bed. Damn it, he went to her."_

_Made a lot of noise then, opening the door, so Lee wouldn't be caught unawares. Lee had quickly composed himself and was appearing unflustered. Yet his eyes couldn't hide what he was feeling, not to someone who knew him as well as Alastor did. The look of betrayal, the hurt that Alastor was causing him. _

"_I bought your favorites," Alastor offered. Then in desperation, he roughly added, "Don't start thanking me. It's a bribe."_

"_A bribe?" Lee asked._

"_My back is paining me. I was hoping if I fed you a proper meal, I might convince you to massage it. Later? I don't care... hands... fingers... whatever... just..."_

"_You're letting me...?" the younger man asked._

_Bloody hell, he was so scared that he'd lose Lee that he was willing to do anything. His mind had offered him a suggestion and he had jumped on it as it just might work. It __**might**__ work. It __**better**__ work. He knew Lee understood why he had always had to be in control, but tonight...tonight... he'd give up control to Lee. Because Lee knew how much gesture would cost him... how much faith and trust Alastor had in Kingsley in order that Alastor could acquiesce and that would mean something, __**right**__? _

_Because Alastor couldn't come out and say it, but he was hinting to Lee that the younger man could do anything he wanted tonight... even __**those**__ things that the rather straight-laced Alastor hadn't been comfortable trying before. _

_Only Lee knew that Alastor's Boggart had looked like his Da until he had slain that personal dragon and how much he feared the loss of control more than anything... that he might be an old crip, but beneath all the scars, there was still the young boy who was bloody scared of his drunken father._

"_**Letting**__?" He growled. "It's time you did something for me for once. Rubbing my back might be a good place to start. I don't care if you use your feet and walk on my back."_

_Thank God, Lee was __**smiling**__. Not enough so to embarrass Alastor but enough to know that Lee had decided to forgive Alastor the bloody arse once more. And Alastor thanked whatever God was taking pity on Alastor Moody, the one eyed, crippled freak. _

"_I suppose you'd want a foot massage?" the younger man quipped. Then with a quick stab with his graceful hands, Lee put him straight. "Like bloody hell am I rubbing your feet. But I know some nice things... different ways... "_

_Shacklebolt paused, letting Alastor refuse straight away but Alastor said not a word. Instead, he swallowed and nodded his head. _

"_I promise... it will __**feel**__ really good," a sincere Kingsley softly assured him. "You'll be amazed how good it will feel, believe me."_

"_Best if we eat first. You'll need your strength and I don't wish you swooning from overexertion," Alastor rumbled. "Especially since you're promising a proper rubdown."_

_In the afterglow, an exhausted Alastor was content to float. Kingsley couldn't keep his hands off his carcass but Alastor didn't rise to the occasion. He dozed for a bit before he realized that Minerva was in bed with Kingsley and that they were both giving him a flannel bath. Rubbing his chest and neck... really... what the bloody hell? A flannel bath? Was that the best idea that they could come up with?_

"Al?" Anna questioned. "Are you with us?"

"I think he's having some illicit dreams," Kwasi whispered to her.

"Hush," protested Anna.

At the sound of her voice, Al roused slightly. "What are you doin' in my bed? You know Lee won't like that. When I told you that I was teaching at Hogwarts, we agreed that I wouldn't talk to you to make it easier for Kingsley."

Least that is what Anna believed he said as Al's voice was slurred.

He struggled to turn his head to face Kwasi as he added, "I don't know what she's doing in bed, Lee. I didn't invite her. Did you invite her?"

"Don't move your head!" The two doctors ordered. Then Anna advised him, "I am tightening up your screws in your halo brace, Al. Kwasi and I will be loosening and retightening them."

"Well, Minerva, you always said that I was the one who turned the screw..." Al mumbled. "Least you two are getting along."

He was dead to the world while Kwasi and Anna discussed the new information that they had learned about their mystery man.

* * *

Severus Snape, while accepting that he rated as the Most Disliked Hogwarts Headmaster Ever, stealing the title from the much maligned Phineas Black, was struggling to keep the school afloat. That meant curriculum changes both for the current regime and a list that he had titled, "_I know you won't bother reading this, Minerva, but take a gander anyway just because you feel guilty_" for changes post-regime.

And he kept his eye on the Daily Hogwarts Gazette. It was a very special periodical only for the eyes of the Headmaster/Headmistress, bespelled to list any occasions where Hogwarts was mentioned by a Muggle in the outside world. Normally, it was blank, but today, he was dismayed to discover that there were multiple listings on an unidentified person located in a trauma ward.

Bloody hell, the reports had been updated how long ago?

He read the various listings and realized that it was long past time to check up on one particular patient by the name of Al. How the hell was he supposed to keep the recovering Alastor Moody alive long enough to heal and lead the rebellion if he was busy spilling secrets? After Severus went to all the trouble of wrapping him up like a pressie and dropping him off at the best trauma center he could find! Especially since that trauma center had been built on top of a well warded clinic run by an exceeding paranoid Healer. While the previous building might not be there, the earth _**remembered**_ and the protective wards still held.

* * *

"Good morning."

Anna Chalmers and Kwasi St. James looked at each. Anna was a bit bleary as she had been pulled in after an all nighter to speak to... what was this man's name again? Colin? The man was tall, thin and dark haired. He had hooded eyes and a beak nose and he looked like he was a very unhappy soul who had the weight of the world on his thin shoulders.

"Good morning," Kwasi answered and Anna quickly chimed in.

"I'm with MI-5," he explained. With a quick, graceful movement, he flashed a realistic looking badge at the two physicians. Well, it looked realistic as the doctoral duo had never come across another to which to compare it. "I wish to look at Al. One of our operatives went missing and is presumed dead. Some of your descriptions sound familiar."

"I don't see Al as being a very good operative. He's rather distinctive looking," Kwasi quipped.

"That is why he's one of the best, because people like _**you**_ can't look beyond the _**surface**_," Colin snapped.

Master Spy? He sounded more like a peckish school teacher.

"Bugger me, I'm back at school!" Kwasi mouthed.

* * *

He wasn't sure what to expect when he entered Alastor's ward, but he wasn't anticipating the mental flash of a crucifix that had hung on his grandmother's wall. The fearsome Auror was sitting up in bed, asleep, with a literal metal crown of thorns. There was a rattle in his chest and assorted beeping noises from various torture devices. His full beard was a sharp contrast to his freshly shorn scalp.

And they had his hands encased in restraining mitts.

Severus kept his face expressionless while he debated how Minerva would react to seeing Alastor like this. Perhaps a hard slap across the face for letting them all believe he was dead?

_**Yes. **_

"Whatever happened to him caused multiple cervical spine fractures. We had to halo him. It's not for the claustrophobic and he had a panic attack. He dislodged it, and we had to rescrew him in. He also has a bit of pneumonia right now."

"Hey Al," the woman then softly cajoled. "Are you awake? We got someone here who might know you."

No response. The physician put her stethoscope to her ears and she listed to Alastor's barrel chest for a bit. That done, she tapped Alastor's chest with fingers.

"I've got crackling bilaterally along with rales and rhonci, and the chest percussion is consistent with bilateral nosocomial pneumonia."

"How is his mental status?" Severus asked. If there was anyone deity out there that might be listening, please let the old bugger be pretending to be mad in order to regain his strength. Alastor was crazy like a fox. The Order needed him functioning as Minerva and Kingsley were both too busy playing house to plan a rebellion. And wouldn't that be a fine kettle of herring? When the very much alive Alastor Moody showed up?

But why did Alastor mention Hogwarts?

"Sometimes he is lucid," the male physician informed Severus. "Other times, he is not. Do you know him?"

There was a flicker of the doctor's eyes as the man looked at his partner and then away.

"What?" Severus asked.

"Odd things happen around Al," the woman explained. "Some people say that they can't enter his ward and I wouldn't believe it... except I've seen it. We've shorted out the CT Scanner, the Baxter pumps go blimey, an aide tripped and all the damn silverware ended up aligned in groups of three! Do you know him? Plus something is really quite peculiar. We don't keep our patients here for extended time frames. He's been here since July. Normally as it's the middle of October, he'd have been shipped off to rehab. Do you know who he is?"

"His name is Alastor," Severus explained. "He's been placed here for National Security. And I can assure you that whatever you're experiencing, Alastor is not to be held responsible. It's just coincidence."

Well, no, because a brain damaged mage could cause problems to occur spontaneously.

"I beg your pardon?" the Scottish doctor snapped. "National Security? What codswallop is that?"

"He's Irish," her physician friend said.

"That he is," easily agreed Severus. Let the dangerous duo come up with their own reasons for an Irish man to be housed in a Manchester hospital. He just needed to appear superior and all-knowing. Perhaps an arched eyebrow would help these people come up with something suitable because he had enough trouble with Magical Terrorists that he couldn't be expected to keep current on Muggle terrorists. An eyebrow arched combined with a snide smile produced the wanted results.

Perhaps too well as both physicians looked ready to pass out. Maybe he should keep up on current events.

"Bugger," the woman said. "Bloody hell."

"Language," Severus snapped.

A few staged pauses in the right spots and the overly dramatic doctors had managed to convince themselves of the necessity of keeping Alastor safe. Their sincerity mattered not a knut to Severus Snape as he refortified the various Wards of the hospital before he left. If and when Alastor Moody regained his mind, he'd be needed to lead the resistance. And he added a quick Charm to prevent Alastor from spontaneously using his magic. No, Alastor would only be able to utilize his magic if he was Compos Mentis.

And hopefully Severus would be long dead before Minerva discovered his role in all this insanity.

* * *

The Lynx patronus arrived promptly at the stroke of midnight and crawled into her bed.

"Hello," Minerva whispered. "I've been worried about you."

"Don't," Kingsley assured her. "I'm fine."

Minerva narrowed her eyes as Kingsley didn't sound _**fine**_. No, he sounded pensive.

"What's the problem, Kingsley?" Minerva looked at the lynx and shook her head. "You're missing him, aren't you?"

"It's surprising to me, how being on the run gives you time to think," Kingsley explained. "One would think that you'd be focused on only your own survival, instead, it just clarifies what's truly important in your life. I finally realized why I was so jealous of you. Because you knew him when he was younger; before he lost his leg and his eye; before he turned a bit bad-tempered. Whenever something rubbed him raw, he'd go to you to a chinwag. I couldn't get him to talk to me. We could chatter and natter about Quidditch and other silly things. But he couldn't talk about the important stuff. About you, about his family."

Minerva stroked the lynx behind his ear. Really, she wasn't stroking him as the lynx was incorporate but she still felt it proper to promote the idea of physical closeness.

"I think you have an idealized view of my relationship with Alastor. His viewpoint was that getting me into bed would solve any issue we had." Minerva slowly admitted. "He never could admit what was bothering him and I could never convince him to be affectionate in public. We never held hands at Hogwarts, never kissed in the hallway. Alastor viewed that physical affection between adults meant only one thing, usually in the horizontal position. I believed he learned that from his father as Ciarán made liberal use of the various whores in Knockturn Alley."

"When I was young and romantic, I wanted more than he could give me. I wished for love notes and flowers, chockies and jewelry. My father helped me realize that Alastor Moody could only give so much... and that for Alastor, touching my hand in public, was an emotional intimacy far greater than the Malfoys fornicating in the Department of Magic fountain. My father _**comprehended**_ Alastor because they were so similar yet not. My mother helped my father come out of his shell."

"When my father passed, Alastor was there. Insisted on sitting with Pappie, so he wouldn't be alone at the end."

After her confession, Minerva had to wipe her eyes.

"I always thought it was me," Kingsley confessed. "Thought that it was my fault."

"Never your fault," insisted Minerva. "It's just Alastor's father profoundly influenced Alastor. I think what Alastor wanted was someone who he could love unconditionally and without fear of rejection. That's why he wished to be a father, because he had never stopped loving his father."

"Our adorable Nora would have done wonders for him," Kingsley softly decided. "The little minx would have wrapped him 'round her little finger and he would have been utterly besotted."

"Well, since you're confessing, I must also. I was horribly jealous of you." She admitted that with a dry laugh. "Don't look at me in mock surprise; it's a rather comical expression on a lynx. I was quite green-eyed because I had never really given up on the possibility that he and I would get back together. I mean, he regularly shared my bed over the last several decades and then... nothing. It took him over a year of self-imposed celibacy for him to grab his courage by the bootstraps and ask you to join him for dinner. He fancied you so badly, Kingsley. Because you were always serene and composed and he so craved that."

"Such a shame," Kingsley admitted. "That I've developed more of an appreciation for him now that he's gone."

The lynx rolled over on his back and stretched. He yawned, displaying a ferocious set of teeth.

"Getting tired? You shouldn't be _**here**_, as you need to be completely _**wherever**_ you are. Not half here and half there. I don't wish anything to happen to you," Minerva chastised. "Is there someone with you? Guarding you? I wish you hadn't expanded on the Patronus charm so we could actually converse. I wish you safe!"

"I know, but I haven't been here in a few weeks. I don't want you worrying about me since I haven't been in contact. I'm afraid that I won't be here for your birthday. But I will be thinking of you. I promise," the lynx solemnly assured her.

"Any more deep thoughts before you leave?" Minerva asked.

"I regret being so stiff-necked with regards to you. If I had unbent my stubborn pride, even the slightest, Alastor would have been delighted that we were friendly. Knowing you as well I do now, knowing Alastor and his traumas better because of you, I would have been delighted to share him with you. I deeply regret begrudging the times Alastor was with you. I mean, Alastor deserved what happiness he could find. God knows he'd given a leg, an eye and his life for his beliefs."


	7. Chapter 7

Kingsley Shacklebolt shrugged his shoulders and his consciousness returned back to his body. The entirely too perceptive Minerva had realized that he was missing Alastor something fierce and that's why he had visited her. It wasn't the entire reason, but he was feeling adrift. Times like this when he was hiding in the safe room underneath the remains of Alastor's cottage, he needed a reminder of why he was fighting.

He was a damn reckless fool to come home tonight of all nights. Perhaps Barty hadn't asked about the specifics between him and Alastor, but still, today was the anniversary of his first date with Alastor. The safe room was new, however, added after the entire sordid Barty Crouch incident.

Only one way in, only one way out.

_**Apparition**_.

Moody had gotten more paranoid after the attack and a Safe room had been the only way he'd return back home to the small cottage.

He hadn't lied to Minerva, those many months ago, how being on the run gave a man a time to think. It was almost Christmas now, and Kingsley was missing his family, wishing he was there for Nora's first Christmas. It wasn't as though he could have gotten her a proper gift as being a fugitive from the Muggle-Born Registration Commission wasn't conducive to buying presents. Not with his face plastered everywhere. Really, he was only Undesirable Number 3. You'd think as a former Auror, he'd rate higher than Hermione Granger.

Damn shame Moody wasn't alive. The bastard would be amused at how much they were offering for Kingsley's head on a platter.

"I miss you, Alastor. It's been eighteen months by my reckoning and I miss you dreadfully. I still can't believe you're dead. I'd think you'd be happy now, as Minerva and I are friendly now. Shame it took your death to cause it."

_He had just finished the next to last of his reports when his stomach growled. It was a loud rumble, like thunder and Kingsley prayed that Alastor Moody hadn't heard it. The older, not really retired though there had been a party to celebrate his retirement complete with multiple proclamations from the Ministry Auror was sitting in the same room, working on whatever Alastor Moody did when he commandeered a desk at the barracks._

_Alastor Moody better known as MadEye, commonly accepted to be absolutely barking mad among the Auror corps. His oddities and peculiarities were legendary among the corps including the well remarked upon fact that Alastor Moody had dated Professor Minerva McGonagall for quite some time._

_That comment usually earned a whistle of disbelief from the newest Auror trainee who always refused to believe that the granite faced Alastor Moody and the spinster Professional McGonagall had personal lives. Not so for Kingsley as he could well imagine the redoubtable Minerva McGonagall going toe to toe with Alastor Moody. _

_Unlike the others, he didn't view Alastor Moody as a few straws short of a Nimbus. No, Moody was a grizzled survivor of battle fought and more importantly, wars won. And if sometimes he feared that his admiration for the older mage was more than mere hero worship, well, he just squashed those niggling doubts. Especially when he caught sight of Alastor's broad shoulders or heard Alastor's voice. Really, last thing he needed was for Alastor Moody to decide that Kingsley Shacklebolt had a bit of boy crush on him. Somehow, he doubted that Moody would be pleased._

_So he kept his sparse conversations with Alastor short and professional. Let the others harass the older Auror for stories of battles fought, Kingsley just treated Alastor like any other comrade. _

_That he wished to shag._

_He started on the next parchment and his stomach growled once more._

_There was a sound of parchment hitting the desk and then the avalanche known as Alastor Moody rumbled. "Kingsley! Don't you __**ever **__eat?"_

"_I had tea…" Kingsley protested._

"_You didn't. You got interrupted - came back and threw it in the bin as it was cold. You need to eat, Kingsley. What do you say to a home cooked meal? I make a rather decent stew if I say so myself."_

_At the time, Kingsley had been surprised by the invite, not realizing that it taken near a year for Alastor Moody to grab the courage to actually invite him over. That while Kinglsey had been everything he could not to appear like a prat, Alastor had been despairing over the fact that Kingsley wasn't interested._

_Dinner had been quite good, afters delicious and the conversation easy. It was only after dinner that everything had gotten awkward. _

_Kingsley was sitting on the couch, feeling mellow. Not realizing that Alastor was a teetotaler, Kingsley had brought alcohol to the dinner. While Alastor wasn't a drinker, he didn't mind if others imbibed, so Kingsley had a few drinks. The younger Auror had been feeling ... good... when he realized anew how much he fancied Alastor. In __**that **__way. He had been listening to one of Alastor's highly improbable but Alastor swore it was true stories about an unidentified Ministry Official, a kangaroo and a kumquat. _

_The setup was unbelievable but Alastor was just so bloody funny that Kingsley had laughed hard. Alastor had smiled at him, a slight quirk of his lips that Kingsley had never before seen. It made him feel quite warm and not quite as mellow and it led to rather illicit thoughts. They were still smiling at each other when Alastor's magical eye rolled. It had been remarkably well behaved all night, seemingly acting in parallel with Moody's real eye. _

"_Sorry, it gets a mind of its own when I'm knackered," Alastor explained. He put his hand over his fake eye and then he swallowed. Nervously. "I don't suppose… what you're sporting… is for me?"_

_Reliving what happened next still pained Kingsley. He had floundered through an apology, determined not to insult the irascible Moody while a deeply mortified Alastor's face turned ashen. _

"… _and it's not because of you…" Kingsley insisted. _

"_Kinglsey, 'tis alright. I know…" Alastor paused then gamely continued. "I know the odds of a young buck like you sporting a stiffie for an old crip like me are pretty low. I was flattered… not offended… You've just had a bit too much to drink, so let's sober you up, send you home and we'll forget this ever happened. I shouldn't have mentioned it…just surprised me… Been awhile since I got a standing ovation."_

"_Flattered?" a stunned Kingsley questioned. "You're not angry?"_

"_No," Alastor softly admitted with a twisted, self-mocking smile. 'Now, let's get you sober and send you…"_

_Home might have been what Alastor was about to say but an Auror always knew when to strike. He kissed a stunned Alastor on the mouth. And then he found himself flat on his back on the couch with Alastor Moody on top. _

_And so their relationship had begun. It quickly developed into a set routine. Kingsley would come for dinner and a very enthusiastic Alastor would ensure that Shacklebolt would end up completely starkers before dinner. There was a great deal of sex of which the hot-blooded Kingsley thoroughly enjoyed however Alastor's idiosyncrasies were the flies in the ointment._

_Alastor never undressed completely. No, he'd hitch his shirt up and undo his trousers but that was all. Also his fake leg stayed on, which was rather unnerving at most intimate of times._

_He insisted on topping … well maybe that wasn't correct. He didn't insist, but when Kingsley endeavored to initiate, Alastor took control and focused on his partner's enjoyment. And while Kingsley had christened their relationship (and the various pieces of furniture) in every part of Alastor's small cottage, it was always in Alastor's bed… in the darkness… when it was Alastor's turn. They never went out in public; it was always sex at Alastor's and then dinner. Then still more sex._

_It was a comfortable pattern, sex, food and more sex, yet Kingsley felt like maybe there should be something more? It was unbelievable that he and Alastor had been shagging each other pretty regularly for four months and he had never seen Alastor naked… or in a nightshirt even. Alastor wore 'em, as they were neatly arranged in his closet, but… why was Alastor keeping him at arm's length?_

_After another frantic tumble into Alastor's bed in what had to be spell-assisted pitch blackness, Kingsley decided they really needed to chat. He waited until their bucking bodies had slowed, heard the slight hitch of Alastor's breath and felt Alastor relax. Just to be safe, he waited until there was the rustle of clothes as Alastor tucked himself in. There was a brush of Alastor's lips against his face and a soft, "Now you go to sleep. Hopefully, this old man tuckered you out."_

"_Alastor, can we talk? We can't go on like this! I'm here just about everyday."_

_Dear God, he was the female in the relationship! _

_A sharp inhalation was Alastor's response. Then Alastor softly said, "You're right. It's not proper to carry on like this. Only one solution…"_

_Kingsley's heart skipped three beats and then thudded into toes._

"_When you moving in, Lee?"_

_Not the response he was anticipating. And it seemed that Alastor had given him a pet name._

"_I'll clean out my closets, so you can have half. I'll even work on putting an Expanding Charm on them as you'll need more than half. You being such a peacock with your fancy robes you'll need more room," teased Alastor. "Once you're settled in, I'll invite Minerva over for dinner, Lee."_

"_Minerva?" Kingsley asked._

"_Yes, I really wish you and Minerva to be friendly. It's very important to me," explained Alastor. _

"_Minerva?" Kingsley repeated._

_The dinner with Minerva had been absolute torture. For one thing, Alastor made a noticeable effort at cleaning up his cottage. Not that it was ever dirty... but it was comfortable and lived in. Now the little cottage shone, and Alastor had gone all out, a new crisp shirt, a hair trim and a small centerpiece of posies. They were having a bloody roast! With horseradish sauce! Yorkshire pudding!_

_Then Alastor had __**buzzed**__ Minerva on the cheek when she appeared at the door. _

"_Thank you for coming. I made your favorites," had been his greeting. Then Alastor smiled at Kingsley and pointed towards her. "This is Minerva. We've been great friends since Hogwarts. And this is Kingsley. He's putting up with me these days."_

_"Delighted," Minerva cooed._

_"Charmed," was Kingsley's easy response._

"_You two get to know each other and I'll finish up dinner."_

_Alastor's current and Alastor's ex looked at each other, then glanced at Alastor as he lumbered toward the kitchen. They looked at each other, guestimated the others' age, their relationship with Alastor, how many wrinkles or grey hair they did or did not possess and quickly decided that they didn't like each the other – not one bit. Their dislike was instinctive; much like a stray cat and a junkyard mutt facing each other. _

"_I'll go help Alastor," Minerva informed Kingsley. Some might view her retreat to the kitchen as a sign of defeat however Kingsley knew better. The witch was shoring up her defense, while planning her offense. _

_Kingsley crept quickly to the kitchen and Listened though the wall. _

"_How old is he?" Minerva asked. Her tone was reproachful._

_Alastor said not a word; instead there was a clanging of a pot on a stove._

_In a softer tone, "Is he even thirty?"_

"_He's twenty-seven," Alastor regretfully admitted._

"_And you're fifty nine," reminded Minerva._

"_I've got five weeks left of being fifty-eight," protested Alastor. "You, of all people, should know my birthday because I am exactly three months, seven days, two hours and thirty five minutes older than you."_

"_Alastor, he's __**so**__ much younger than you."_

"_I can count," growled Alastor. "I know __**exactly**__ how many years older I am then he is. I know to the very minute how much older I am."_

"_You're quite smitten with him! To move him into your house, Alastor! I am just worried - I don't want you getting hurt," Minerva protested. "There is a significant age difference, Alastor."_

"_I can keep up with him. I take him to bed and wear him out. He's got no complaints about that..." Alastor admitted. "I take pride in that I'm as good as any able bodied man in that respect."_

"_Alastor, you look exhausted and your leg is bothering you. And don't tell me it's because the weather's damp so your aching bones are preventing you from sleeping. Alastor, don't be an idiot. Don't give yourself a heart attack while trying to prove that you can keep up with a twenty seven year old buck._

"_He makes me __**happy**__, Min. I like having someone living in this house with me. I enjoy having someone sharing my bed with me. I don't like being by myself and it's good to have someone to natter on with."_

"_Right, you're just looking for conversation, Alastor. Please, I know you. I know you so well, Alastor. Do you let him see you naked?" was Minerva's retort. "Or are you hiding your scars and your missing body parts behind a long nightshirt? Are you even undressing that far?"_

_There was a slight splash as Alastor stirred the sauce a bit too briskly. _

"_Lights on or off, Alastor?"_

_Still no answer._

"_Leg off or on?"_

_Silence. More clattering and clanging of pans. But Kingsley's heart lurched as he realized how well Minerva knew Alastor. _

"_Those are rather personal questions regarding a sensitive area between Kingsley and me, Min. Not answering them."_

"_I have a very good idea what the answers are. The way you're favoring your leg means you're keeping your leg on. You know full well you're not supposed to sleep wearing it. Your skin will break down and you'll become septic."_

"_It's still... new... between us... I... really... fancy him, Min. I was hoping you'd like him, too. It would mean a great deal to me to have your approval."_

"_I won't approve of you acting like the lovelorn fool, besotted with a man who is half your bloody age! Alastor, your dragonhide jacket is older than he is!"_

_There was a sharpness in Alastor's tone that Kingsley had never heard before when Alastor finally responded to Minerva. "You best be polite to Kingsley, or I'll give you what for being rude."_

"_Alastor, we've been friends for nearly fifty years."_

"_And lovers for close to forty. Based on those two reasons, I'd like your approval. However, I do __**not**__ need it. Funny, I thought you'd be more alarmed by the fact that Kingsley possesses a fine penis than by the age difference."_

"_Well, that was a surprise, to be honest. But the age gap is what has me concerned. He's so young, Alastor. Does he any idea what he wants from his life? A family? Children?"_

"_You forget, Minerva. How I wanted that more than anything at one time. The sting has faded over time."_

"_But you've never stopped wanting it, Alastor. You're lying to yourself if you don't admit it."_

_Another slam of the oven door._

"_I'm the bloody emperor of daft prats for inviting you over," Alastor finally admitted. "I just hoped that the two people I am closest to in this entire world would get along like a cauldron on fire. It's over between us, Minerva. It's been over for decades. We were just too stubborn, too proud to admit that it could never have worked between us. Your father would have liked it to be otherwise, but I think he knew."_

"_I really wished him to be my father-in-law, you know."_

"_I know, Alastor. And he always viewed you as his son," softly admitted Minerva. "Look, I'll try to like Kingsley. You've just got to promise me that you stop trying so hard with him. I know how much you enjoy physical closeness, but you have to be careful about your stump. You know it has to come off when you're making love."_

"_I was hoping that... I could put that off for a bit longer," confessed Alastor. _

"_You believe that he doesn't notice the fact you limp? I find it hard to believe that he hasn't noticed you're short a leg."_

"_He knows about the leg and he cannot help but see what Rosier did to my face. He just hasn't __**seen**__ all of it."_

"_So your plan was to keep Kingsley sated by shagging him to an inch of his life for a year or three, and then decide to drop trow and finally introduce him to your short leg?"_

"_I didn't say it was a brilliant plan. I just worry what his reaction will be when he sees what's left of me," Alastor explained. "You wept when you first saw me. You can't deny that. You stayed because you refused to see me as the man I had become. You insisted on seeing me as the man I once was. He's never known the old Alastor, the one that both eyes and the one that could run up a flight of steps. Kingsley has only known me as a paranoid one-eyed freak."_

"_Why don't you try something new? Stop shagging him and have a serious conversation." _

"_Minerva, Kingsley and I are both men. Talking is not part of the male code." Alastor explained. _

"_He obviously sees something in you, why else would he move in?" was Minerva's surprisingly astute comment. _

_Kingsley didn't hear Alastor's response as instead he decided he had heard enough. He and Alastor had never had that easy a conversation. No, Alastor saw him as lightweight, good for a tumble but someone who'd be sickened and repulsed by what Alastor had experienced. Alastor didn't realize that Alastor's experience was what had captured Kingsley's attention. He wasn't a sick bugger that got off on what Alastor had endured, but he was amazed by how Alastor still got up every morning and fought the good fight._

_Lesser men would have crumbled to dust, been content to take their retirement, not Alastor. He was a fighter._

_Kingsley was pensive throughout the dinner. Normally, with Minerva as possible competition, he would have made an effort to be lively and flirtatious. Instead, he was introspective as he mentally reviewed his various interactions with Alastor. _

_Like the damn fool he was, Kingsley had gotten quite attached to Moody in their short time together._

_Foolishly, he had refused to look too deeply at Alastor's relationship with Minerva. It was over, in the past, yet the two of them __**talked**__. Intimately. _

_He could tell that there was still a great deal of love that lingered between the two of them. A chemistry that could easily reignite._

_The realization was a kick to his 'nads._

_He felt adrift._

_Like he was five years old again, sitting in a corner while two kindly women informed that he was never to see his mum and his da again. That they were making arrangements for his grandmother and his grandfather to come to the orphanage, that he'd be going home with them to Barbados._

_Instinctively, he retreated back inside himself. On the outside, he was coolness and composure, as he learned early on to never display any weakness. _

_He spoke when he was spoken to, made polite conversations about who was the Ballycastle's best hope for beating the Pride and smiled when Alastor lambasted Rita Skeeter's last column. Minerva had offered to make, tea leaving the two men alone while Alastor decided to investigate Kingsley's reticence._

"_Lee," Alastor whispered. "You alright?"_

"_I'm absolutely fabulous," Kingsley offered."Never better."_

"_You're very quiet tonight. Are you upset about Minerva?"_

"_No," he politely responded. "She's very significant part of your life. Why should I be upset that you wanted to have her over for dinner?"_

"_Lee, I'll tell her to leave right now," a flustered Alastor offered. "I didn't mean to upset you. Believe me, everything between Minerva and me is stone cold. I'm involved with __**you**__."_

"_Alastor, I'm fine with your relationship with Minerva. It speaks well of both of you that you two are friendly." Kinsley almost believed his lies and Alastor narrowed his eyes. _

"_You __**can**__ be honest with me, Kingsley. You __**can**__," Alastor insisted. _

"_I am being honest," was Kingsley's response._

_Alastor continued to stare and then nodded his head. Now, knowing Alastor so much better, Kingsley could see that Alastor was lambasting himself for upsetting Kingsley. _

"_I'll make it worth your while for humoring this old man. After Minerva's gone, I'll do some nice things to you that I know you like. How's that?" Alastor's tone was quite soft. "You'll like that right? Especially since you don't have to get up so blasted early in the morning. You can have a nice lie in... I'll make you breakfast... I found a new recipe for Cassava Biscuits. I think this time it'll be like how your grandmother made it. Bloody shame that she didn't write down her recipes because I know how much you liked her food. I'll keep trying until I get it right, Lee."_

_Again, Kingsley heard for the first time, Alastor's insecurity. How Alastor was fumbling in his sincere attempts to reassure Kingsley. _

"_I had just hoped that you two would get along," explained Alastor. "I wanted that more than anything."_

"_Alastor, we got along just fine," Kinglsey lied. This time his sincerity seemed to sway Alastor as the older man sighed and unhunched his shoulders. "I'm sure if you asked Minerva, she'd say the same thing."_

"_I must have been mistaken. I thought otherwise," Alastor confessed. "I'm not good at reading people."_

"I wish I had known you better. Realized how much you hid from me. I wouldn't have thought you weak for confiding in me. I would have been honored by your trust in me, Alastor," Kingsley whispered. "You never told me about your father, how he was an alcoholic and that's why you never drink. I understand why you went to Minerva and I forgive you for being unable to confide in me. However, I won't ever forgive you for letting your prideful stubbornness nearly kill you."

_Alastor had insisted on doing a walkabout. Didn't need Kingsley hovering like a mother hen. He had been in the trunk for a year and he wished to stretch his legs. __**Alone**__. And if he didn't get out now, then he risked turning into a goddamn recluse._

_That's what he claimed, though Kingsley knew Alastor was off to visit with Minerva. Damn the woman. She hadn't noticed that Alastor had been replaced by Barty, and he hoped that she felt __**guilty**__. That it was eating away at her soul, knowing that she had kept Alastor in the trunk. Yes, when Alastor had accepted the position as the latest Doomed Instructor of Defence, he had sworn up and down, right and left that he'd not talk to Minerva more than was required to get through teaching. No fond reminiscing. No after dinner drinks. Strictly professional. Moody wouldn't trigger the alleged hex as he was teaching for only one year, and no more._

_He was only doing it as a personal favorite to Albus. _

_And Kingsley, like the fool he was, had agreed not to correspond with Alastor while he was at Hogwarts. Kingsley had a long term mission and well, Alastor didn't wish the kiddies to talk. Kingsley hadn't wished to agree, but Alastor was being stubborn... and... well damn it, Kingsley was a bit peeved about Alastor and Minerva being in close quarters. If Alastor Moody wished to go teach kiddies for a year then jolly good for him. And with his ex being right down the hallway well... good for Alastor. Kingsley would see him in a year, maybe or maybe not._

_That didn't mean that during that long, lonely year, Kingsley didn't hope for an owl from Alastor._

_And instead, Alastor had been in his trunk._

_Since August._

_Kingsley had gone out on his mission and Alastor had gotten jumped by Peter Pettigrew and Barty Crouch, Junior. _

_And the experience had left Alastor severely traumatized. No matter how carefully Kingsley endeavored, Alastor refused to let Kingsley touch him. Yet Alastor followed him 'round the cottage whenever Kingsley was home, intent on being in the same room as Kingsley. So it seemed Alastor wished to be near him but not in physical contact. Couldn't get within arm's reach of Alastor, and they weren't even sharing their bed._

_No, the all too thin Alastor slept on the floor, curled up like a question mark. Some might consider it a victory that Kingsley had managed to sneak a mattress underneath Alastor one night. _

_Not Kingsley. _

_Because he had fallen asleep on the floor, positioned next to the mattress. The next morning he had found himself in his far too lonely bed as Alastor had put him to bed during the middle of the night. And that morning, Alastor informed Kingsley that he was having a walkabout._

_Looking back, having learned so much about Moody in the intervening time, Kingsley could understand exactly why the wounded Alastor had retreated back to Minerva, the woman who still viewed him as unchanged from when they had first met. At the time, Kingsley couldn't get past the sting of Alastor and Minerva together. _

_He obsessed on it for hours, knowing that Alastor and Minerva were horizontal. Alastor's infidelities... Alastor might think he hid his unfaithfulness from Kingsley, but Kingsley always knew. He never said anything because... he had long decided that having Alastor ninety percentage of the time was a fair sight better than never having him. While he had uneasily accepted the situation, it still didn't prevent Kingsley from flogging himself raw over the fact that Kingsley Shacklebolt wasn't enough for Alastor Moody. Or vowing that he'd develop a backbone._

_Alastor's arrival was deliberately clamorous. He was loaded down with enough takeout bags to make it appear as though he was planning on feeding the Weasleys. Which meant he felt quite guilty about sleeping with Minerva. _

_The old Auror looked like hell, his face drawn and his eyes red-rimmed. He was so damn thin, having lost muscle and mass during his stay in the trunk. _

"_I bought your favorites," Aastor needlessly informed Kingsley. Then in a feeble attempt to keep control, Alastor claimed it was a bribe. _

"_A bribe?" Lee asked._

"_My back is paining me. I was hoping if I fed you a proper meal, I might convince you to massage it. Later? I don't care... hands... fingers... whatever... just..."_

_When Kingsley rubbed Alastor's back, it always led to one thing. But the way Alastor was offering meant that he was giving up control to Kingsley which Alastor never ever did. That offer, far more than the traditional Barbados Buffet Bribe softened Kingsley's righteous anger. They bantered for a bit, and then Kingsley reached out to Alastor, placing the back of his hand against Alastor's scarred cheek._

"_I always liked it when I came home after a rough day. You'd help me out of my jacket and help me relax." Kingsley stopped. "I'd like to... relax... you before dinner."_

_A very subdued yet oddly intense Alastor nodded his head._

"_Let's put supper away," decided Kingsley. _

_When that was done, Alastor was helped out of his jacket and vest. The two men stared at each other and then they both spoke at the same time._

"_We don't have to do this, Alastor," Kingsley offered._

"_I wasn't worried about dying, you know. I worried that if I ever got out, you would have found someone."_

"_No, never," Kingsley assured the older man. Recklessly then, he embraced Alastor. His lover recoiled... and then hugged him back. Then, he stole a kiss from Moody. A short, quick peck on the lips, but he tasted something._

_Alastor had brushed his teeth recently as his mouth was pepperminty, but there was a tang of something. He kissed Alastor again, taking it slowly from closed mouth to an open mouth kiss. Again, he tasted something... spicy like cinnamon but more._

_A few more savory kisses, plus a rather significant bulge in Alastor's trousers helped Kingsley realize that Alastor had taken dragon's blood. A bloody aphrodisiac. No wonder Alastor wished for physical closeness. _

"_Alastor... what type of dragon's blood did you take?"_

"_Hebridean Black," Alastor finally admitted. _

_Hebridean Black, only the most potent blood aphrodisiac there was. _

"_That's __**illegal **__use of a controlled substance, Alastor. Who did you get it from?"_

"_Mundungus. He was selling it, so I confiscated it. I never turned it in, as my oven needed cleaning. I saved it thinking I might need it someday."_

_Bloody hell, it wasn't even fresh Dragon's Blood. No, it was old, so the properties had strengthened. _

"_Mundungus Fletcher will be the very death of you, Alastor. Why did you take it?"_

"_It's been almost a year, Kingsley. We didn't part on good terms... as an old man, I worried that... tonight... wouldn't be good for you. That I wouldn't be keen enough to wear you out for a proper homecoming. I drank a thimbleful... no more... but my blood's __**burning**__, Kingsley. My heart's beating so hard right now."_

_He couldn't take Alastor to St. Mungo, as Rita would find out. Then Alastor's tall, tenancious todger would be the talk of the town. _

_What happened next was a quick egress to the parlor, an untucking of Alastor's shirt and an unbuckling of Alastor's trousers. What occurred next was quick and furious and it left a spent Alastor fighting a losing battle against falling asleep in a chair next to the fireplace._

"_Lee..." he rumbled. _

"_Shhh... never you mind. Let's put your short leg up on the ottoman, and you go to sleep. You've been wearing me out for years so now it's finally my turn," Kingsley teased the exhausted Alastor. "When you wake up, we'll do it again. First, I'll tuck you back in so you're presentable in case someone stops in to visit."_

"_I didn't reciprocate..." Moody was so knackered he was slurring his words. His head was bobbing and his breathing was slowing and deepening._

"_Never you mind. You just go to sleep and I'll watch over you." Kingsley kept his voice soft and free from the anger he was feeling. As a willing recipient of Alastor's legendary sexual stamina, Kingsley would never have believed that Alastor would fall asleep after a quick blow job. _

"Damn you, Voldemort. Damn you and your lackwitted followers," Kingsley growled.

* * *

"Alastor, the ocularist is here with your new eye," Anna Chalmers informed her patient. "How's the new leg?"

"When do I get to stop modeling it and do a shufti? " Alastor asked. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and wiggling his feet. They had done a good job with his fake leg. It looked real, though he had to keep looking at it to confirm that it wasn't wooden.

Yes, a wooden peg leg, like a pirate. That would be fear inducing. Now, this eye they were giving him – they had assured him that it would be painted to look like his good eye. Damn shame it couldn't spin round in its socket so he could see out of the back of his head. And maybe an electric blue… that would be an excellent color for a fake eye… as that way he'd know if anyone took it. Tried to pass it off as their own…

Sometimes, he wondered about these strange thoughts that bubbled up in his mind. Everything before waking up in the ward, trussed up like a Christmas goose, was a bit blurry and fuzzy. Plus what he remembered didn't make a lot of sense. Father Christmas made appearances, frequently, in his dreams, though he was usually dressed in pastels and purples…. Plus those two people who were Anna and Kwasi but most assuredly weren't.

And the fear of falling. That was new… and why the fascinations with brooms, as though they were a means of escape.

"You are quite uncooperative as a patient," was Anna's tart retort.

"I've heard that said," agreed Alastor. For good measure, he popped his neck, much to Anna's horror. Really, the only reason why Alastor did that was to watch Anna's eyes bulge.

"Please stop doing that," Anna requested. "I keep anticipating that you'll pop your neck out of alignment again. And again, we're not letting you off the ward. You're too dangerous to go out on your own."

Really, the Healer said the nicest things. Other people might get offended, but Alastor liked being called dangerous, outrageous, insubordinate and a daft prat by a pretty woman. It felt… familiar and reassuring.

"Stop flirting," Alastor snapped. "You'll get Kwasi jealous if he hears you complimenting me like that."

Really, the response was instinctive, though Anna looked confused.

* * *

The fake eye was placed in the socket and the ocularist looked pleased.

"I do good work," he admitted proudly. "You can't tell which one is fake."

"The white eyebrow might be a giveaway," Alastor offered helpfully. "Plus the scar running from the top of my head to my t…"

"Alastor!" Anna protested, preventing Alastor from mentioning where that particular scar ended.

"Sorry, Min. You know how I am." Alastor's apology was not so much repentant as matter of fact. Then he knocked on his head for good measure. "All that head trauma, I seem to have lost my filter."

"Please stop doing that," Anna feebly protested.

* * *

The new eye installed, the new leg required breaking in, so Alastor decided he needed to escape from the hospital. Plus it was Christmas…. Or near abouts and he should get something for the two Healers. Though he couldn't really wear jimjams out in public. If only he had decent clothes, and a bowler hat. A muffler also to hide his scars would be wonderful.

Alastor thought really hard about the clothes he needed to do a proper shufti. He muttered some incomprehensible words and then decided to check his bureau once more, just to see if there were clothes. Maybe some had spontaneously arrived.

To his delight, there were some and they fit perfectly. He wrapped himself up with the muffler and looked in the mirror. If he tilted the hat just so, you couldn't see his discolored eyebrow. And there was money in his pocket.

Now to escape the guards of Azkaban… Alastor paused, wondered about where those strange thoughts came from and what they might possibly mean. However, time was fleeting, so he decided it necessary to just think invisible thoughts so he could walk past the attendants.

It was surprisingly easy, as though people couldn't see him.

He stepped out of the hospital and took a deep breath. For a moment, he had felt something when he had crossed the threshold, like stepping through a filmy veil.

No, it was just his imagination.

Though the holly tree caught his attention, especially the branch that had fallen to the ground. Maybe a foot long or so, and Alastor picked it up. It felt good in his hand, like it belonged there and he decided to keep it. Maybe he could whittle it down, smooth it out.

Yes, that would be his new project.

After he bought Christmas presents.

* * *

Severus Snape and his billowing black robes stalked the hallways of Hogwarts until he reached Minerva's quarters.

"Professor McGonagall, it's Headmaster Snape. I wish to speak with you," he announced.

No doubt there was a flurry of activity as Nora and Nessie were securely put away for the night. Really, it was too good an opportunity to pass up, so he again announced his arrival and demanded entrance or else he'd just come in. It was his privilege as Headmaster after all.

Minerva opened the door and he pushed himself into the room.

"I just wished to inform you that Kingsley Shacklebolt has been located at his former residence. He mentioned the Dark Lord's true name. It is Taboo to mention his name, and the Dark Lord's followers arrived."

Minerva grew still and then Severus added in an off-handed manner, "He escaped but no doubt he'll be caught soon."

_If the Dark Lord's followers suddenly developed a clue and a drunken Kingsley decides to strip naked and run through the halls of Hogwarts during teatime. Plus trip over a House Elf or three.  
_

"Why did you tell me this?" Minerva asked.

"As colleagues, I felt that I should let you know why Kingsley's patronus will not be making any house calls in the middle of the night. Really, Minerva, did you think I would not know? About Kingsley? About his lynxy visits?"

"I don't know about what you're talking," Minerva lied.

"I haven't told the others. They might believe that you're leading a rebellion under my nose, what with nightly visits from Undesirable # 3. They wouldn't understand that he's visting his wife and child. Speaking of which, I must apologize for not congratulating you on the birth of Nora when it happened. For some reason, you didn't share the glad tidings with me."

Severus noticed how Minerva's hand instinctively tightened into what could only be a dueling stance.

"Listen to me, I don't wish any problems between us. I won't mention Nora to the others, if you promise to behave. Or if that's not possible, just don't get caught in your little schemes to overthrow me and undermine my authority. While I find them quite entertaining, the others may not."

"I don't understand, _**why**_?" Minerva stressed the word.

"Because Nora is a Pure Blood, born from the carnal joining of the Pure Blooded Houses of Moody and McGonagall."


	8. Chapter 8

**Shufti.**

Alastor, No Known Last Name, tightened the muffler around his face. There was a brisk wind that was chilling him plus he was trying to escape from the Brain and Spinal Centre of Manchester, or as he had taken to calling it, Head Case Space. While his new fake eyeball matched his real eye, there was the matter of the scars that crisscrossed his face, and the noticeable limp. A thousand and one things that would shout out that he was an escapee from Head Case Space, especially to the attendant was smoking a fag near the Indian takeaway place.

It felt good to be out, free from the hospital and yet he truly didn't feel well, even with his escape.

His neck was paining him and he couldn't turn it far enough to look over his shoulder. Just in case someone was following him. His missing leg ached and his back was made out of shattered glass.

But the physical pain wasn't what was bothering him the most. It was the noisy crowds.

The crowds reminded him that it was winter holidays, a time when families got together, at least according to the magazines that Kwasi purchased for the ward at the local newsagent. Shouldn't there be someone out there, wondering where the hell their Alastor was? He was a hair or three short of two meters tall, with a face that would scare small kiddies into behaving and grannies into having seizures. Didn't someone notice that he wasn't around?

There had to be someone… somebody must care about him. At one time, someone had probably cared for Grindelwald, back when he was merely a naughty schoolboy.

And who the hell was Grindelwald? Kwasi and Anna kept assuring Alastor that it was a good sign that he was remembering, however, the tattered memories never made any sense to him. He spent far too much time in the sorry excuse they called a library, searching in a tattered, outdated atlas for names and places that bubbled to the surface of his mind. Hogwarts? Hogsmeade? Quidditch?

_He was in bed with an utterly gorgeous woman, both of them completely starkers, who was asking him if he had any one special. To his deep shame, he stuttered and stammered when he confessed that there was someone, someone he really, really fancied. As he was so often mocked, he didn't possess his father's gilded tongue, so he resignedly anticipated Mab's ridicule. She'd tell him off, call him a daft prat or worse yet, tell his father because Alastor was bedding her as part of his proper 'education'. _

"_You should tell her," Maeve gently suggested. "Is she the reason why you're serious and earnest when we're together? Take as much time as you need to tell me. I get paid by the hour, love, and I'm sure your father would be delighted to know you require extra time with me."_

_That got him rattled and the prostitute apologized. For a wonder, she didn't mock him. Not like his father would have done… or Gwen or Henry. _

"_Alastor, some people… they can't express how they feel. Just because they can't speak the words, it doesn't mean that they don't feel as deeply as others. Sometimes, it's because they feel so intensely that they just can't give voice to it. Hopefully, your lady friend understands that about you. "_

_It took him almost an hour for him to stumbling confess what he was feeling. That if they ever did get together, he wanted to make sure he did everything proper especially if it was her first time. However that was unlikely as she was everything he wasn't; she was athletic, well-liked, intelligent and so bloody articulate. Unlike him, because no matter how hard he struggled and God above knew how much he wished that he was smooth and published, he was never a shade less than brusque. On the happiest day of his life, when she had asked him to go to Hogsmeade with her, Alastor had managed to be merely terse. _

_Plenty of the boys were sniffing around her including that bloody Tommy Riddle. There had been a few times when she had been seeing one of their fellow students and he had kept his mouth firmly shut so she didn't know that he was gnawing on his liver. _

_Because he didn't wish to lose what they had. _

_If they had anything. _

_And so when she and her latest boyfriend broke up, Alastor would allow himself a big sigh of silent relief because the two of them were back to being best mates again. _

_And among his admissions was his biggest fear._

"_How will she know?" If she didn't laugh in his face and they did get intimate…. How would she know that she was the only person in the world he loved and trusted? What if she believed that she was merely a notch on his broomstick?_

"_By your touch, Alastor. Your lady friend will know by how you kiss her."_

What the hell was the girl's bloody name? He had flashes of her in his mind and there so many strong emotions attached to the tattered wisps.

_He had been her first. Afterwards, after they were too tired even to kiss and cuddle, he had struggled to say those three small words to her, like he had practiced so often in his head, just in case his wildest dreams came true. And he just couldn't say them. Three small words. Stammering and stuttering like a fool, his awkwardness was so bloody painful that she finally took pity on him, placing her fingers against his lips._

"_I know. I've known for so long how you feel about me. I love you, too."_

_The burning taste of whisky on his tongue, because he desired to talk to her about what had happened and the chasm that was growing between them. How he desperately hoped the liquor would make him fluent like his father, with his golden throat and cultured voice, had been a drinker. Instead, it made everything worse. The liquor destroyed his hard earned emotional equilibrium and left him weeping like a child._

_Because the woman he loved more than life itself was slipping through his fingers._

_Because she was looking at him, hoping that he'd say something… anything and he was bloody mute._

_And instead, all he could do was take her to bed and hope that what he couldn't voice, she could feel in his touch._

_His hand through the wall, the shattering of his heart, the gaping hole in the wood paneling, the breaking of their relationship…_

_The on and off affair through years, until one day he looked in the mirror and the mirror had glared back. The mirror image had his arms crossed his chest and he was fiercely scowling, "You should let her go so she can find someone who can treat her better."_

_Who was the dark skinned man with the earring? He had an easy smile. Graceful hands and an emotional equanimity that Alastor admired. Admiration quickly changed to envy before turning into craving. Not just a sexual desire, but a yearning for that man to converse with him. Conversation came so easily to him unlike Alastor whose social anxiety left him in knots._

_He knew that the young 'uns made fun of him. Mimicked his scowl, impersonated his brogue, galloped through the office as though they were a mad man with one bad leg. They generally took the mickey out of him. Yet, the young man didn't. He seemed… respectful… though quiet. And maybe… maybe being with another man wouldn't be so bad. His Da would have called him an ankle-biting queer and worse, but he had reached the age where he feared a lifetime of solitude ahead of him more than the ridicule of a dead man._

_She had craved for him to be more open with her, but another man? Men didn't talk. Men certainly didn't talk about their feelings or past loves. Alastor certainly wouldn't have to confess to the young man how Alastor's father had turned him into an emotional cripple._

_No, the two of them would have an easy relationship where Alastor intently listened while the young man talked. And when the mood hit them, well, they'd go to bed for some serious non-talking. And since the other man was a great deal younger, Alastor would struggle to ensure that Lee was kept sexually sated._

_Yet why did he remember the two of them in a broom closet, a **broom** closet?_

_"I know __all __about you two. I know when you've bedded her, Alastor, because you're always so attentive to me afterwards. And I haven't said anything because I've craved for you to be more affectionate. I knew what I was getting into when I moved in with you, but I didn't think it would hurt so damn much. That I would always be second best."_

Alastor of the No Known Last Name, decided to stop for a moment. With a brusque gesture, he wiped both tearing eyes, the real and the fake.

Maybe the reason why nobody was looking for him was because they were better off without him?

* * *

"Professor McGonagall, or should I say Shacklebolt?" Severus Snape drawled. "Aren't you going to show off your baby? Most women, with the smallest speck of maternal pride, are always so delighted to show off their prodigy."

"I don't wish her to catch anything," was Minerva's lightning fast retort. "People have a tendency of coming down with something… fatal… around you."

"Oh, Minerva, why you be so… catty. I'd like to see her," Severus repeated. "Offer my sincerest congratulations on the blessed event. I even brought a present."

He handed her a stuffed snake in Slytherin colors. Naturally. His largesse earned Severus an arched eyebrow of disapproval.

"For her father, since he's not here," Severus explained. "Either of them."

"I can't imagine why you'd care," Minerva retorted. "Your lack of paternal pleasure is legendary."

"As Headmaster, I take an interest in my personnel."

That earned him another arched eyebrow.

"I've told you. I wish you to behave. I am willing to keep the news of Alastor's prodigy quiet, if you behave. She's already lost two fathers, losing her mother would be so… cat-a-strophic."

"You do anything, and you'll find yourself taking the same abbreviated flying lesson that Albus did." Minerva gave Severus a wide smile, full of teeth.

"Threats, Minerva?"

"No. It's a _**promise**_."

"Minerva, I'd recommend that you show me what you're trying to hide in that small room off your bedroom. Because I will stay here, until I meet her, even if the Carrows have to come searching for me. They really don't like children, and I know that they especially won't like Alastor Moody's daughter. He put them in Azkaban, you know."

Bloody hell, he was doing this for Minerva's own good. She needed to remember that Nora needed her mother behaving herself and not running a rebellion where the odds were that she'd probably end up dead. That was Severus' job. His threat worked as Minerva blanched and she nodded her head.

"If she's sleeping, I won't wake her."

"Understood."

"I'll go get her," Minerva continued. "I'd prefer if you didn't come into her nursery."

He nodded as he wished to be magnanimous in his victory. It took a few moments, but Minerva returned carrying Nora. Her daughter was quietly fussing but he was amused to see that the baby had her hands firmly clenched around the snake. And Minerva seemed to be a natural, as she was gently rocking the baby back to sleep.

But it wasn't the fact that Minerva looked the happiest he had ever known her to be that frightened him.

It was Nora.

Nora had a shock of curly, ginger hair. Alastor's hair, which meant he had to keep Nora Moody the hell way from the Carrows. They would delight in killing her because of Alastor Moody. And it wouldn't be a quick, fast death, oh no... not Amycus and Alecto... they'd torture the little baby while Minerva watched.

There was no way **_anyone_** would believe that Kingsley had fathered her.

He must have spoken out loud as Minerva crisply informed him that Kingsley was Nora's father.

Somehow he doubted the gravely ill man in a Manchester hospital would be as high-minded.

* * *

Alastor traveled the streets, looking for something. He wasn't sure what, but he found himself in front of a small shop. There was a picture of HIM in the window. Long hair, long white beard, knowing blue eyes… but he was dressed in sensible clothing though he had a spattering of stars on his clothes. There were crystals in the shop window, a thousand books if not more and a pentacle in the window.

Alastor walked into the store and nearly choked on the smell of incense.

There was young woman who greeted him and asked if she could help him. It took him a moment to realize that she had spoken to her, as he been focusing on the fact that clerk had bubble gum pink hair and a bar through her nose. That must have hurt like a sonofabitch. And she was wearing ripped clothes that showed off her physique.

"The guy in the window. I need to speak to him." Alastor finally decided. Yes, the man in the window, he'd **_know_** what Alastor needed to know. He'd be able to answer all of Alastor's question because he had filled Alastor's dreams for the last few months. His hair had been a little longer, but no doubt he had gotten a haircut.

"He's not here right now," the bubble gum haired girl told him. "He's away for a week. Doing a cruise show."

"He can't be away. I need to talk to him. He knows what I need to know."

His desperation seemed to perplex her and then she snapped her fingers. Alastor jumped back, unpredictably anticipating that a pile of books would come crashing down in an avalanche of paper.

"Oh! You want a reading. I can do a reading for you. Let me get my cards and you take a seat over there. And I won't charge you anything . I need to practice. Don't worry; I can assure you that I have the talent."

Alastor sat in a chair, watching the girl shuffle the cards. She asked him a few cards and then decided to separate it into three sets of three.

"I do my cards a little differently," the pink haired girl explained. "The first set here is your past, the middle is what is currently happening and those three… they're your future. Let's see what your past says about you."

She flipped the three cards over and whistled. In spite of Alastor first believing that this was a complete waste of time, he leaned forward to see the cards as there was something in the air. Let the others underestimate the pixie with the pink hair; she had the taste of power.

"The Hanged Man, The High Priestess and the Five of Cups. In spite of what this card looks like, it just means that you're in suspension. Many feel that it represents Odin who hung upside down until knowledge was revealed. You feel like you on hold in your life, right now. Do you feel as though you're in a waiting room while you're searching for your personal truth?"

"I have no idea where I'm going, as I don't know where I've been," he admitted.

"And the High Priestess. Right now, you need to trust your instincts. They'll get you through this current crisis. Events will be kept secret, until they'll be revealed, but the High Priestess is a very important card. There's a female in your life, very powerful and very smart. Some mistake her demeanor as being cold, but it's a facade. She's very passionate especially with regards to those she loves and the causes she believes in. The combination of these two cards suggests that you'll find the truth for which you're looking; however, it will be in a roundabout way. Snatches of a dream, perhaps in tea leaves."

"If you drown your tea leaves in cooking sherry, maybe," Alastor snapped.

"This card, the Five of Cups, explains you to me. You're holding on to something with regards to the High Priestess. You're regretting something about her… and you believe that you've hurt her and someone else because you can't let go."

_Bloody hell, she wasn't a sherry-soaked charlatan. She** Saw**… _Alastor leaned closer to make sure he didn't miss a single word of the talented Tarot card reader.

"Now, these three cards are the present. Let's see, we have the Empress, the King of Swords and the three of Pentacles. This is a very interesting as I don't think you're in this reading. The woman that was the High Priestess, does she have any children? Because the woman in your life seems to be both the High Priestess and the Empress who is also the Great Mother. She is a force to be reckoned with, however, there is a possibly that she is refusing to let go. Sometimes, mothers have that issue."

"We never had children. I wished for it desperately, but it wasn't to be," Alastor said. And he knew it was the truth.

"This King of Swords, it's not you. He's an idealist, fair minded and pragmatic with a very strong code of honour. He's calm and he's very collected, but I'm detecting that there were some issues between him and the Empress and it involved the issue in the Five of Cups. However, something profound has changed the dynamics between the two of them and they've become quite close. The Three of Pentacles is a very powerful card. It reflects that whatever the Five of Cups was, it's been resolved on their end. It's still bothering you, so you can't move forward, so that's why you're the Hanging Man."

_Kingsley was the King of Swords. The intense young man in the broom closet, who kept asking Alastor why he was always second best. _

_"I know __all __about you two. I know when you've bedded her, Alastor, because you're always so attentive to me afterwards. And I haven't said anything because I've craved for you to be more affectionate. I knew what I was getting into when I moved in with you, but I didn't think it would hurt so damn much. That I would always be second best."_

"Are you ready for your future? I have to warn you that the future is not permanent. What I reveal to you, may or may not come to pass."

"Show me," requested Alastor.

She flipped the cards and stared at them intensely.

"It will be alright," she promised him. "You have the upside down Three of Swords, the Two of Cups and the Ten of Cups. This is an amazing combination and it's full of incredible potential. The Three of Swords is a very powerful card as it is the card of truth. Secrets have been revealed and it hurt. Yet, you'll finally see clearly about your life and the Five of Cups. Whatever that card represents, the truth will come out, you'll be able to face whatever it means, head on. The abscess will drain, and you'll be much healthier. Also your Empress and the King of Swords are in alignment, finally. It's what you've always wanted, for the two of them to get along, and they are. The Five of Cups has been negated by the Three of Pentacles and it is now the Ten of Cups. "

"The Ten of Cups represents family and maturity. Meaning that you are able to feel what others feel, and know how to respond to them. That's always been a problem for you, hasn't it? Which is why you can't seem to let go of the Five of Cups. The two of them, they've come to terms with whatever it was, but you can't seem to let it go. You can't comprehend why they've forgiven you because you can't forgive yourself."

_Is that why they're not looking for you, Alastor? Because they believe that you're dead? Maybe because you're not there to cause problems, they're actually friendly. Perhaps, it turned into something more, because you always believed that they should be best mates, as they had a great deal in common. _

"Any questions?" The pinked, pierced Oracle of Manchester asked him.

"The Empress…. The King of Swords… can you tell… are they… lovers? Is the family in the Ten of Cups actually them? "

The Oracle peered at her cards and then looked at him. She looked sympathetic, which meant his fears were confirmed.

"The Three of Swords does have the potential to represent a love triangle."

The reason why nobody was looking for him wasn't just because they were better off without him. It was because the two of them had moved on… **_together_**.

And for the sake of their happiness, Alastor decided then and there, it would be best if he stayed dead.


	9. Christmas

Alastor left the shop, loaded down with a few purchases. After the tarot card reading, the entirely too accurate tarot card reading, he had decided to peruse the shop. It mainly a way for him to purchase some time in which to settle his nerves. He ended in the second hand section, full of assorted abandoned arcane items. The pink haired clerk had followed him as he had randomly grabbed various items. Books mainly, a crystal or three and now he had a _**real **_holly wand.

"It's interesting, guv, you've picked just about everything that a family member dropped off. Said their relative had the talent, and they wished to have nothing to do with it. It was though they thought having the Talent meant he was a devil worshipper."

The pink haired pixie snorted a disgusted laugh before giving him a few more items from the dearly departed's stash.

He handed her a few bills with the pictures of Elizabeth on them. The Queen, they had called her in his Life Skills Class. The class had taught him how to make change, make a cuppa but it didn't really deal with important issues. How to tie one's shoe laces without falling out of bed, how to wear braces when you couldn't get them over your shoulder, about … sex… when his few, failed attempts at self-satisfaction left him aching due to a glass back and a spasming hip.

At one time, the act had been important to him because it was the only way he could express affection. For some reason, he was fixated on the idea tha affection should only took place between adults in private. That had annoyed the girl, and he possessed tattered memories of him vowing to himself that when he married her, he'd take her hand in the aisle and give her a proper kiss in _**public**_. Because she truly wished him to more demonstrative.

Then the pixie added a few additional items to his sack. A few essential oils, she explained, to help him with his emotions. One would uplift his mood, another would help with him sleeping and another one would relieve his internal stress as she saw how he favored his shoulders and neck. He refrained from telling her that his head tilt was the result of being in a halo for far too long. It was his own damn fault as he had panicked and attempted to remove it.

She meant well, and for some reason, her pink hair was growing on him. Though he was thinking that it was about to turn to an exotic shade of fuchsia or plum.

"Anything to help with memory?" Alastor questioned.

"I have something that might help. Here, sniff," she said. He took the vial and inhaled. It smelled of lemon, rosemary and a few scents. One was peppermint.

"_Would you… like… a peppermint toad?" he asked her before class started._

_She smiled in delight and inwardly, he crowed. Because he knew she liked the taste of peppermint and his stepmother had sent firstie Henry a big box of sweets. He didn't rate even a cockroach cluster from his hated stepmum, but Henry had shared so he had taken a toad. For HER. His euphoria faded when he realized that in his nervousness, he had clutched the toad a little too tightly. It was looking slightly smashed and its legs weren't wiggling at all. No, just one arm was giving a weak wave. _

_That was the best part about the toad, how it wiggled and jumped in your gut. And __**naturally**__, he had ruined it. He tensed, fearing that she'd say something cutting and it would really hurt as it was HER. _

_But she had claimed that she was glad it wasn't wiggling about as it would distract her during class. After class, they had studied together in their special spot, even though she had been invited for an impromptu game of Quidditch. While he knew the wand movements as well as she did, he claimed he didn't. She had stood close to him, holding his hand to direct him and she had smelled slightly of peppermint.  
_

_And he pondered what it would be like to kiss her, with her mouth still pepperminty. Funny thing was, he hadn't eaten the peppermint toad but his stomach was jumping about as though he had gorged on a box._

"You have the talent, don't you?" The pinked hair woman questioned. "I could tell when you walked through the door. I get so many people in here that pretend that they do or they wish they do, that I can tell. And you've _**really **_got it."

"I don't know," Alastor slowly admitted, instinctively trusting the pink pixie. "I was in an accident and… I'm not myself."

"Let me give you the cards. They were his, but I kept them for myself, as my readings are better with them."

She gathered up the cards and handed them to him, but he could see how her hands traced over the pattern on the back of cards.

"I don't have the knack," protested Alastor.

"They came alive for you. I mean that, because they _**did**_. And they changed. The King of Swords was dark skinned; the Empress and High Priestess had long dark hair. They're usually fair skinned and blond."

"I don't have the knack, and they'd be wasted on me."

"Do a draw, prove me wrong and I'll believe you," she commanded.

He took three cards, completely at random.

"Past, Present and Future and they are The Magician, who is now clad in bespangled purple robes, the Hanged man who is you and your future… is the Castle which appears to be on fire."

The Magician was the damnable soul that filled his dreams. Except his blue eyes weren't sparkling with amusement. No, they were somber. The Hanged Man now had a heavily graying ginger beard and Alastor could feel himself… The Hanged Man… swinging in the winds of Fate and the Castle… the Castle was on fire, its bulwarks blazing crimson, as red as fresh spilled blood.

The Castle, he knew he had been at that Castle sometime in his life.

_He was standing on the bulwarks, staring at the sun setting over the Black Lake. The Giant Squid was idly splashing in the water and Alastor swallowed when he heard footsteps behind him. Instinctively, he grasped his wand, prepared to defend himself, until he realized it was Kingsley. Only he wore that particular cologne of sandalwood and cypress. _

_Alastor saw Kingsley reach out to him, as though to touch him, so he moved. Tried to make it appear as though he was stretching but Kingsley looked hurt because Alastor had rebuffed his advance. The younger man dropped his hands to his side and put them in his pockets._

"_You've lost a lot of weight," Kingsley finally said._

"_Slow, fat, dead," Alastor growled. His voice was rusty due to lack of use. "Needed to lose a few stones' worth anyway."_

"_Alastor?" Kingsley's voice was quite soft and Alastor could hear what Kingsley wasn't saying, 'Do you wish to talk about it?' was the unspoken question that hung between them. _

_He did. God, how he did. But he was too damn scared to admit anything to Lee, because… Lee was in his prime. And Alastor was old and feeble, and he'd do anything to prove to Lee that he wasn't. Because he couldn't stand to be alone, not after a year of solitary confinement. And Lee wouldn't want to be burdened with old fat crip. He needed to get back into Lee's high regard and prove to him that he was as capable as a younger, able bodied man. That meant he needed to get Lee horizontal as quickly as possible._

_And he needed to be damn sure that his wand swished and flicked. _

_He couldn't fail with Kingsley, because he'd leave. Maybe… maybe he'd go to her. She had already left him… so another failure wouldn't change anything between them. _

"Keep the cards," Alastor roughly ordered.

"They're _**tuned **_to you."

Like hell would he want those cards anywhere near him. When he had no clue about the man he had been, he had at least liked himself. Now that he was learning more and more about the man that Alastor once was, he found that he didn't particularly care for him. Bouncing back and forth between two lovers and they had kept taking him back! Why the hell would anyone subject themselves to that?

"I'm staying at the Brain and Spinal Centre of Manchester. I'm not right in my head or my body right now," protested Alastor. "You keep them."

She took the cards and did another quick shuffle before putting three cards down in rapid succession.

Bam. _**The Hanged Man**_. Bam. _**Justice. **_

The Karma Card, he knew. As he sowed, so would he reap, so he _**knew **_what the third card would be before she turned it over.

_He was kissing her, hard. And for a wonder, she was kissing him back just as passionately. He shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't have kissed her, not with Lee at home, but the old spark had flared…While it was __**easier **__with Lee, Lee had never known him as a whole man, with both legs and both eyes. _

_That was his first physical betrayal of Kingsley, but not the last._

_On the days when his ghosts were riding him hard, and he couldn't bear to look at the scarred wreckage in the mirror, Alastor would return back to the woman who refused to see him as anything other than the man he once was. _

_Then he'd come home to Lee, whose calm, self-assurance was being slowly corrupted by Alastor._

_It was a God given gift, his ability to destroy the ones he loved._

As he knew it would, the third revealed The Lovers. A dark haired woman, a dark skinned man with an earring entwined in each other's arms.

"Take the cards," the clerk insisted. "They'll help you on your journey. You'll find out who you were and who you are."

"I don't particularly like the person they're revealing," he protested.

"You're recovering from a serious injury, and your body and mind are healing at different rates. You may not be remembering everything the way it truly happened. Take the cards, they'll help you."

She insisted and a regretful Alastor took them.

He was pensive after the stirring of half-forgotten memories, so his Christmas gifts for his two personal Healers… no… physicians… weren't as well thought out as he had hoped. A muffler for Kwasi and a bracelet for Anna. When he returned back to the ward, he took his punishment for his elopement like a true man. Not one muttered word of protest when a tart Anna informed him that he since he was up to doing a walkabout, he'd be replacing the rather potted Father Christmas who had shown up for the pediatric party.

* * *

The party left him knackered, so he was staggering by the time he returned back to the ward. Kwasi was on one side of him, clutching him by his forearm in order to keep him upright.

"Anna's about to have a litter of kittens over your little shufti," Kwasi drolly informed him. "You're a brave, brave man, Alastor. Now, let's get you to bed. However, where did you get these clothes?"

"They were in the wardrobe," Alastor insisted. "I didn't think I had clothes, but there they were."

"You did a good job with the kids tonight, Alastor. I couldn't have pulled it off, not with my complexion," the physician assured him. "A couple of them giggled and that's a wonderful improvement. You brought Maggie out of her shell, so you've got a knack with kids."

"I wished to be a father," Alastor explained to Kwasi. "It was not to be."

"You're remembering, that's good. But I wish it was a happier memory, Al," Kwasi said.

"I don't think there's much happiness in my past," confessed a somber Alastor. "I fear that they're much happier without me."

The older ma sat on the edge of the bed, fumbling with the straps on his fake leg. Kwasi knew enough not to assist, instead he sat down.

"Why do you think that?"

Somehow, Alastor doubted that Kwasi was a believer in Tarot cards, so his mind limped about until he could think of something suitable to explain his statement.

"They're not trying very hard to find me, now are they?" Alastor asked. "That means nobody cares that I'm here. All my time here, I've never had a visitor except for you and Anna. And since you're my Healers, you really don't count."

"I disagree. On both issue. Our visits count and you did have a visitor. You had pneumonia, so you weren't alert and orientated at the time. He was quite concerned about you."

Alastor's heart skipped two beats.

Kingsley! It must have been _**Kingsley**_.

"What did he look like?" Alastor kept his tone composed while he prayed that it had been Kingsley who had visited.

"He was thin, sallow complexion. Dark hair. Bit of a hawk nose and…he claimed his name was Colin."

Alastor's euphoria crashed and burned. Who the bloody hell was Colin?

* * *

Kingsley spoke slowly, projecting an aura of calmness and serenity. Times like now, frightened people needed to hear resoluteness and steadfastness. "We continue to hear truly inspirational stories of wizards and witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbours, often without the Muggles' knowledge. I'd like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps by casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken."

Lee Jordan, being a tyrannical director at heart, decided that Kingsley needed to say still more, "And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be 'wizards first'?"

Kingsley then added, "I'd say that it's one short step from 'wizards first' to 'pure-bloods first', and then to 'Death Eaters'. We're all human, aren't we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving."

Then guided by instinct, Kingsley decided he should give a message of hope to two specific ladies.

"Especially now, when it is Christmas Eve. And behalf of Potterwatch, I wish all a Happy Christmas and a Blessed New Year. On a personal note, this is for two people I hope are listening, though I fear it is past someone's bedtime, Happy Christmas. I keep you in my heart always and you keep me safe. Now, we don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials . . . . Remember the password will be Fawkes, as our society will rise from the ashes once more. Keep each other safe. Keep the faith. Good night."

Needing a moment to collect himself, Kingsley closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and smiled when Remus Lupin clapped him on the back.

"I feel so much better when I listen to you talk. I can just imagine how soothing you are to the poor souls out there," Remus informed him.

"How's Dora?" Kingsley questioned.

"Insatiable," admitted a blushing Remus. "I must return to her post-haste."

"I hope that you've been warned that's only temporary. When the baby decides to be born, she'll want to kill you. Though with Dora's talents, she may not have a problem delivering a baby. I thought I knew what fear was, I didn't know true fear until she went into hard labor," Kingsley confessed.

"Bugger me, Kingsley? You're a _**father**_? How old? " Remus asked. "I never knew."

"Nora is eight months old," Kingsley admitted. "I wish I could be there for her first Christmas. She's quite stolen my heart from me."

"I thought you and Alastor…" the tactless Fred blurted.

"My relationship with Alastor was complex and by all means not exclusive for either of us," was all Kingsley would admit.

"Who is she?" Fred asked.

"Who?" Best play daft, Kingsley thought.

"The _**mum**_?" Fred hinted.

"She is surrounded by Death Eaters, who do not know of our involvement. I can't tell you who she is because if any of you are captured…" Kingsley slowly admitted. "I trust you all with my life, but their lives are not mine to entrust."

Remus Lupin shut down that line of questioning by easily accepting Kingsley's reasoning as sound. However, Fred offered the loan of one of his owls, especially bespelled so they were unplottable, untraceable, so he could send them a present.

"And there's no way I'll know where they're located," Fred promised. That earned an arched eyebrow from Kingsley. "Seriously. We have to keep our customer safe."

"I can not believe that we are supporting a rebellion with the proceeds of a joke shop," inserted Remus. "Though I'm sure Albus is chortling merrily."

"Besides, it's never too early to start her off right. Every baby needs gold hoop earrings," chimed in Lee.

It never failed to amuse the Muggle born Kingsley how his single gold hoop earring was such a conversation piece among the traditional Magicial society. When he had first joined the Auror corps, there had been a big discussion about having him remove it, until the matter had been dropped. He would find out years later that Alastor had opinioned in on the earring and had convinced Rufus and the rest to let him wear it.

"I highly doubt her mother would approve," Kingsley retorted. But he then paused and looked at the father-to-be Remus.

The werewolf spoke quietly, "She should have a present. So when she's older, she'll know that you thought of her on first Christmas."

_Especially if you're not here_, was the unspoken comment.

Kingsley took his earring out while he requested an owl. Transfiguration had been one of his best subjects, so before long there were two small earrings and thin gold chain. Alastor had given him the earring originally, so it was doubly appropriate that he donate his earring towards Minerva and Nora's Christmas present.

* * *

Minerva was lying in her bed, and Nora was next to her. They were both listening to Potterwatch, Minerva intently while Nora not so much. The indifferent baby was struggling to put her foot in her mouth as that was what had captured her attention.

"And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be 'wizards first'?" Lee Jordan asked Royal.

Minerva leaned closer to the radio, needing to memorize everything Kingsley said. Since Severus' visit of several months previous when he had informed her that Shacklebolt had spoken You Know Who's true name, she hadn't heard so much as a pip from him. Kingsley hadn't even been on the broadcasts, which had alarmed her.

Tonight River (couldn't they at least try to come up with original nom de plume?) had announced that they had a Regal and Royal Visitor, so Minerva had hoped that it was Kingsley. After losing Alastor and facing the possibility of having lost Kingsley, Minerva had become more protective of her daughter. So her efforts at sabotaging Severus had been at best, feeble. Just enough so they knew that she was doing something because even if she did nothing, they'd believe she was up to no good.

And for a wonder, Severus was assisting her subterfuge, by claiming that she was the one responsible for numerous acts of sabotage that sprinkled through the castle. Minor annoyances, but enough to keep the Death Eaters off balance. Filius had even claimed he had witnessed Severus Snape charming the wall so it read "Albus Dumbledore was a snappy dresser" so the two of them were becoming more and more convinced that Severus Snape was fulfilling some scheme of Albus.

Kingsley spoke in calm, measured tones. His deep voice radiated determination and confidence. "I'd say that it's one short step from 'wizards first' to 'pure-bloods first', and then to 'Death Eaters'. We're all human, aren't we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving."

"Especially now, when it is Christmas Eve. And behalf of Potterwatch, I wish all a Happy Christmas and a Blessed New Year. On a personal note, this is for two people I hope are listening, though I fear it is past someone's bedtime, Happy Christmas. I keep you in my heart always and you keep me safe. Now, we don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials . . . ."

Royal continued to speak for a little longer and then the radio went silent.

Minerva sighed; a deep felt expression of relief because Kingsley was alive and well. The tension fled from her body and she felt as though Hogwarts was off her shoulders.

"That was your father, Nora. One of them. Fortunately, you've got your sweet disposition from Kingsley as both your Mum and Alastor lack it. One of these days, I must come up with a proper nickname for both your fathers. I want you to grow up knowing all about Alastor and how much he would have loved you. We also must not shortchange Kingsley's role in your life."

She had just put Nora to bed when there was a slight scratch on her window. Recognizing it as one of the Weasley's owls, she opened her window. The owl dropped a small package on her windowsill and then quickly fled.

Inspecting the package, she couldn't Sense any trouble, and the Sealed charm was signed with a crown sigil.

"Kingsley," Minerva murmured her chastisement before she opened the package. There were two items of jewelry. A thin gold chain that was her size and two hoop earrings that were Nora sized. "I guess you've decided that I'm getting Nora's ears pierced."

Minerva smiled at her daughter who yawned.

"Really, it's long past time for your bed. I just wished to make sure about Kingsley. Let's tuck you into your cot and I'll tell you a bedtime story. Would you like to hear the story about the Pretty Phoenix and his Badly Dressed Barmpot of a Wizard? Once upon a time, there was a beautiful Phoenix by the name of Fawkes…"

* * *

Kwasi handed Alastor a glass of water and two small pills.

"Take these. It will help you sleep," Kwasi ordered. "Don't protest as you will be taking them."

"Will it ever stop hurting?" Alastor softly asked after he took the medication. "I get tired of the pain, Kwasi."

He rolled on his side and positioned himself just so. Like a fool, he had overdone it today so his physical pain was crescendoing while his morale was mucking along in a mental morass.

"Are you talking about your body, Alastor? Or are you talking about something else? Holidays are a very depressing time of year for many people. Is that what is bothering you?" The entirely too astute physician asked. "I'd like to start you on a new regime."

"No drugs," Alastor growled.

"I think you're a walking, talking advertisement for Post-Traumatic Stress. I don't have any idea what happened to you before you did a face plant in the middle of our car park, but right now I'm charge of your care. We'll talk tomorrow about this. You get some sleep and I'll prevent Anna from ripping you up one side and down the other. What made you think it was such a brill idea to do a shufti?"

"Wished to get you a Christmas pressie," Alastor offered.

That earned him a reprieve as Kwasi laughed.

"Good night, Alastor."

After the physician left, Alastor moaned and groaned as he reached for the holly wand he had acquired at the shop. He felt significantly safer with it under his pillow. Since he was too wired to sleep, he took a look at the various books he had purchased. Potions, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts… really… did someone need to write a book about defending oneself against a bad painting? The Charms book seemed interesting so he made a mental note to start reading it tomorrow. He was sincere, not charming, so perhaps minding his P&Q's would make the new Alastor more likable than the old.

Yet hadn't his father been a charming bastard? Smooth as silk and just an all around sick bugger what with flaunting his whores in front of Alastor's sick mum. Alastor could remember defending his brother from his Da's drunken debacles and there had been the time when he had knocked his father on his arse after Da had hit Gwen in front of him. He had loathed Gwen, but she hadn't deserved to be hit. For a wonder, Henry hadn't done anything, no… he had just nodded his head in approval when Da had hit Gwen.

No, he wanted something light to read, something with pretty pictures and very few words so he didn't have to think. Newt Scamander's "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" looked like an ideal book to browse.

He opened the book to the page dedicated to Phoenixes, and the very vibrant drawing captured his attention. It was incredibly well drawn as it looked like it was about the fly off the page. As it was, he had to keep checking the picture as he swore it moved.

Really, this Newt fellow was quite the wit as he made it seem as though these creature truly existed and that he had actually researched their habitats.

The medication was affecting him far more quickly than he had anticipated, so before long he was asleep, dreaming of a badly dressed Father Christmas and his pet Phoenix.


	10. Hoggy, Hoggy Hogwarts

Thanks to MyMadness for her input

* * *

Minerva had carefully entwined the chain that Shacklebolt had given her with the necklace that Alastor had given her so long ago. That completed, she had then rethreaded the necklaces through the clasp of the rose pendant. She kept them hidden beneath her robes, nestled against her skin so that the two men were close to her always. And when everything at Hogwarts was going directly to hell, she'd center herself by resting the palm of her hand against the pendant. The feel of the Goblin pendant steadied her, reassured her and comforted her.

However, her saving grace was her daughter. After the interminable dinners in the increasingly empty Great Hall, surrounded by Death Eaters, Nora was a welcome relief. Minerva would snuggle with her daughter and tell her all about her father, Alastor. One such story was how a crestfallen Minerva had confessed to her father, Malcolm, how she feared that Alastor was content with the sexual status quo and he'd never marry her. Her father's response had been a rather tart, 'So why don't you ask him?''

Challenged by her father, an emboldened Minerva had gotten down on one knee and asked Alastor for his hand in marriage.

"Your father had taken to wearing a small mokeskin bag 'round his neck some years earlier. It was rather annoying as he never was without it. Sometimes, during our quieter moments, he'd obsessively fondle it, for the lack of a better term. When I asked him about it, he had stuttered for a bit and had finally confessed that he had a picture of me in it, so I was always with him. So there I was, on my bended knee, asking for your father's hand in marriage, when he ripped the mokesin bag off his neck and pushed it into my hand. He was so agitated that he broke the cord, which is magically spelled to be unbreakable, uncuttable, and unsliceable."

"I thought I had really done it now, because he was just so verklempt. That he was returning my photo back because our relationship was now over because I desired more than he could ever give me. Nora, I suppose I should explain that verklempt means your father was gob smacked and in shut down mode. Now, as you know by now, that your father Alastor was horrible with verbally conveying himself. During an emotional situation, your father would shut down. That was a gift from your abusive Grandfather Moody, who thankfully you will never know. By now your father was on _**HIS**_ knees, clutching my left hand, and he couldn't get the mokesin bag open. It took him a few minutes to open it, but for me it was a lifetime. I was so humiliated because it seemed to me that your father wished to be rid of me."

"I closed my eyes, began apologizing and he finally succeeded in opening the mokeskin bag. He had his mother's engagement ring in the bag, and he had been carrying it around for years because he just couldn't ask me. No, it had to be _**perfect. **_He was utterly fixated on making his proposal to me _**public **_and _**romantic**_ which meant that your father had a severe case of stage fright. It didn't help matters that he had all these clippings about the various proposals in the society pages for the last twenty years. On every single one of them, he had scribbled comments on what he thought I'd like about it, what I wouldn't, and he had written out three pages on what he thought would be the perfect proposal for me."

"It was the most romantic proposal, Nora. Your father knew me so well that he had crafted the proposal of my youthful dreams. It was perfect, except for one small issue, that the man I loved could never be that vulnerable and open in front of strangers. And the proposal… had been neatly written on parchment and it had been folded and unfolded numerous times as he had been practicing it."

"I read it, said 'Yes' and we were engaged. Without him ever asking me outloud."

Nora was snuggled against her mum and the baby yawned.

"I was so happy. Life was full of potential as your father was in the Auror Corps, and I was finishing up advanced studies in Transfiguration. The sky was the limit and I hoped for a home full of ginger haired children. He had hopes for all girls while I wished for our first to be a boy, so our children would have a big brother to watch over them. And none of our hopes and dreams came close to magnificent you."

While she talked mainly about Alastor during her 'girl nights' with Nora, it wasn't because she was slighting the quieter Kingsley. It was just that she knew Alastor far better and for far longer. That dichotomy would never do, so Minerva asked Filius about Kingsley. As Shacklebolt's former House Head, Filius knew a great deal about the younger man.

She knew a little of the horrible story of how he had been in an orphanage in London after his parents had died . His grandparents had been poor and Muggles, so they hadn't been able to simply hop over to London to retrieve him, so Kingsley had been 'warehoused'. His grandfather had died early on, leaving him with just his rather formidable grandmum who had given Filius the what for when he came to speak to them regarding Hogwarts.

"Wished to know the difference between me and the Obdeah priests as they had sensed Kingsley's spark. She rightly feared that Kingsley's power would be used for nefarious purposes and wished to protect him. Sara Kingsley was a fearsome foe. She would have flipped You Know Who over and warmed his bottom with her slipper. As it was, I feared that she'd tan my bottom," Filius had explained. "Even as a youngster, Kingsley was always very deep and he'd see to a person's heart. He was always an old soul."

The Charm Master's explanation helped Minerva relate the very complicated relationship between Alastor, Kingsley and Minerva to Nora. Since her daughter was just a wee one, Minerva kept the entire mess suitable for her young listener. Mainly it was how she and Alastor had separated but had still deeply loved each other but how Nora's father Kingsley had been healthier for Alastor.

"Because Alastor could be himself, and be happy with himself. He didn't have to worry about him supposedly not being good enough."

* * *

Alastor was a busy man these days. Reading took up a lot of his time, as the book about Charms was not about the social graces and Ps and Qs but _**magic**_. A half heart Wingardium Leviosa and a flick of his holly wand had produced surprising results, so he only flicked and swished in the privacy of his room. The Defense Against the Dark Arts was not a war against dimly lit paintings, but instead a book of defense.

Also, Kwasi had roped him into helping with the pediatrics unit so he was spending a lot of time down there. The kids didn't seem to mind that he looked weird, acted odd and spoke stilted. No, he had a large lap and he was able to read to the sprogs, so they were happy. He even helped a few of the littles remember their letters, and he seemed to have a knack for it.

He was also developing a skill with the Tarot cards as he was playing with them daily. They were becoming more and more responsive to him, eager to spill arcane secrets to him as the excited cards had gossiped to him regarding Kwasi and Anna's secret romance.

Settling down with a cuppa in the so-called library, he had just thrown out three cards when he heard Kwasi mentioning to someone where he was.

_The Devil_. The card had a noseless snakelike thing that was glaring balefully at him. His red eyes seemed to blaze and Alastor quickly turned over the card to negate it.

_The Magician. _With a brightly colored bird on his shoulder, clad in clashing robes, the Magician's amused blue eyes peered into Alastor's soul. No wonder the bastard's nose was crooked because his amused, knowing grin had probably earned it.

_The Chariot. __Control of One's Emotion in order to go forth on the battlefield._

The third card had actually brought along a friend with it. The new card was reviewed to be the Knight of Pentacles. _Someone who taken responsibility onto himself and had taken charge of a situation._ The damn castle was in the background and the Knight of Pentacles was a rather greasy looking git. Sallow skin, hooked nose.

_Colin. The infamous Colin is at last making an appearance. _

"Hello Alastor, you've got company," Kwasi said.

"Hello, Colin," Alastor tersely replied. He didn't even bother looking up to confirm his guess as the cards were busy talking and he needed to concentrate. He shuffled the cards once more and pondered. _Do I trust him?_

He threw the card and growled when he saw the Angel. "_**Temperance**_? Does this mean you're a virgin, Colin?"

Kwasi bit back a laugh and Alastor assured him that he could go.

"No, I can assure you that I'm not. I can also reassure you that you were never particularly interested in me in that way, Alastor," drawled Colin.

Alastor looked from his card in order to stare at Colin, hoping that something would jar his memory. _**Nothing**_. Nothing at all. He felt _**nothing, **_knew_** nothing **_about the dark clad stranger in front of him.

"You know me," Alastor finally announced. Another card revealed the Eight of Pentacles. _Hard work without reward, until the very end. _

"Yes," Colin easily agreed. "You look much better than when I last saw you."

"Wish I could say that same," Alastor retorted. He barked a laugh. "Let me read your fortune, _**Colin**_." Alastor stressed it as he knew the name was a lie.

"Some people believe that Divination is a waste of time," was Colin's response.

"That's because some people nearly failed the bloody course," Alastor retorted. "Really irked her because I got an O."

That earned an arched eyebrow from Colin.

* * *

The bearded, graying Alastor Moody was hale and hearty. His memory was still spotty, but Severus could sense that magic still resided in him. His recent head injury had not dimmed the spark within him, if anything; it had concentrated and refined the fire. The fire was smoldering, yes, but one spark and Alastor Moody would be a force with which to be reckoned.

With the battlefield coming soon to a castle near Severus, the presumably deceased Alastor Moody could help tip the balance. Though it would be too much to hope that the Dark Lord would be so surprised to see the allegedly dead Alastor Moody storming the bulwarks, that he'd fall over dead from a cardiac seizure. That was not the luck of one Severus Snape.

"I want you to pull two cards for me," Alastor requested.

Though Alastor Moody had never been one for the fuzzy art of divination, Severus was beginning to suspect that he had toed the party line. Minerva and Albus believed it normally was a waste of time and breath, so Alastor had agreed. Yet, he had the talent.

"Knight of Pentacles," Alastor announced. "Looks a bit like you, _**Colin**_. And…. The Knight of Swords…. Looks a bit like me. I guess we're a pair of teamed mules. Show me your wand, _**Colin**_."

"On our _**first **_date?" Severus drawled. "I'm used to being kissed first. Not to mention the mandatory dinner and dancing."

That caused a reaction, as Severus found himself thrown against the wall, with Alastor's wand poking him in his neck. Alastor's eyes narrowed…. His two… _**brown**_… eyes narrowed.

"Fascinating. That was an example of nonverbal, wandless magic," Alastor growled. "And you're _**not**_ surprised…. You are… but you're not. It's more of a surprise that I actually could do that, as opposed to the fact that I did. That means, you and I, we've both got the talent. Now start talking, _**Colin**_. Because I can't help but believe that you're the reason why I'm here. Neatly tucked away where no one could find me."

"Yes, I saved your life," Severus explained. For good measure, he added a tart, "You could say 'thank you'."

"Thank you," was Alastor's gruff response, completely lacking any trace of gratitude, pretend or otherwise. "Which side are you on? The badly dressed Father Christmas with a Phoenix? Or Snakeface?"

"Albus. Albus, the bespangled Father Christmas, gave me a second chance, since then I've always been on Albus' side." That was not the whole truth but enough to be honest. Sometimes, Albus' yoke chafed, and Severus dreamed a time when he would be free of it.

"Albus…. Albus…" Alastor paused, deep in through and moved his wand away from Severus' neck. "Did I trust _**you**_?"

It would be tempting to lie, but somehow Severus realized that would not be the right choice. Alastor had always had a sixth sense about quibbling and pettifoggery.

"Not really," Severus admitted. "You hated me. Your fondest wish was that I'd come down with a serious case of Dead. Unlike Albus, you were not so willing to forgive me my adolescent mistakes."

"Since I'm not a very nice person, why did you bother saving my life?" Alastor questioned.

"So I could lord it over you for ages yet to come," Severus snapped. "Because our side isn't winning and I need you alive to help us win."

Alastor seemed unconvinced so Severus added, "And for her. She was fond of you, though there appears no accounting for taste."

"For _**her**_?" Alastor repeated. "Does _**HER**_ have a name?"

"You were quite the Lothario," Severus sniped. "One of your countless former romantic conquests, Alastor. And if you can't remember her name, well, I'm not telling her that."

"Looking like _**this**_? I _**charmed**_ the _**ladies**_?" Alastor snorted his disgust. "Very well, what do I need to do in this mad scheme of yours?"

"It's time for you to get a flat. I'll visit you and get your magic up to speed. When the time comes, I'll need you to come back to the castle."

"Hogwarts?" Alastor interrupted.

Severus nodded his head once. "Hogwarts, and you will be my Angel of Vengeance, Alastor."

* * *

Alastor easily settled into his new routine. He continued to volunteer with the pediatric patients, mercilessly harassed Kwasi and Anna about their secret office romance, worked on his tarot cards and continued to improve his magical skills under "Colin's" expert tutorage. However, since he didn't trust Colin, not completely, he would often search the various arcane shops for other magical tomes which he could study in his free time.

"Who's this?" Colin asked as he slapped down a photograph. The person in the photo stuck their tongue out at him and Colin seemed tempted to tear the photo in half. It seemed the stress of leading a Rebellion and being a double agent was getting to Colin.

"Forge," was Alastor's lightening fast retort. "It's either Fred or George, but you said that they have only ½ a brain between them, so it's Forge. There must be more people you want to quiz me on, because if there aren't more people, you've got a pretty poor Resistance movement. You need more than a dozen people to overthrow the Ministry."

Alastor held his breath, hoping that his mocking would get Colin to reveal new photos. As of yet, he hadn't seen the two people for whom he was searching. Kingsley and the woman.

"You're correct. This is Kingsley Shacklebolt. He's on the run for his life right now, just like everyone else in the Resistance," explained Colin.

Kingsley Shacklebolt would be leading those… Death Swallowers… Knights of Walpurgis… on a merry chase through the Scottish moors. He'd be fine, his fancy robes would be a might messy, but Kingsley could handle himself. And he'd wearing his sly grin while he led them on a chase.

There were a few more names, and then _**HER**_. "This is Minerva. She teaches at the school," was Colin's off-handed comment. "A formidable foe."

"If I remembered," lied Alastor. "Looks like a bit of a priss. Probably because she pulled back her hair too tight."

No, he remembered her in throes of passion, with her long hair undone. What fond recollections they were. Of the first time, when he was frightened of hurting her and the last time, when they had argued and fought over his death wish.

"Triggering any memories?" Colin… no… _**SEVERUS**_… asked. His dark eyes were quite intense as though he had placed his final card on top a castle of cards and was fearfully waiting for it to crumble.

"No," Alastor lied. "None at all. I don't believe that they're ever coming back."

* * *

Severus Snape, double… triple… agent was a very busy man for the next few months. First he risked double pneumonia by tossing Godric Gryffindor's great big bloody sword into a frozen pond. That done he had to traipse around, in the cold, leading Harry Potter by the nose until he came to the really big sign complete with downward arrow that said "LOOK FOR SWORD DOWN THERE". While Albus Dumbledore had complete faith in Harry Potter, Severus Snape was depending heavily on his own knight erratic, Alastor Moody.

The quizzing of Order Members had not jarred Alastor's memory one bit, as Severus had feared. No, his memory was quite holey, like a pair of old socks worn thin and in need of darning.

And so the days and nights continued until the Dark Lord realized that Harry Potter and his minions were systematically slicing and dicing his way through the various Horcruxes. That led to a full siege of Hogwarts complete with a duel with Minerva McGonagall. The old girl wasn't putting her all into it, but she still called him a coward. His feelings hurt; he then left the party by jumping out the window and flying away. It was a needlessly dramatic exit but there were far too many instructors showing up to defend Minerva and there was a strong possibility someone might get hurt.

Like _**him**_, he realized too late after he was bit by Nagini. He was lying on the dirt floor of the blasted Shrieking Shack realizing that his life had come complete circle, except instead of James Potter and his cronies, there was the damnable Harry. The trio of witless wonders didn't even bother to try saving him, but it didn't matter, because standing in the corner of the Shrieking Shack, having decided to make an appearance, was a disillusioned Alastor Moody.

Severus had given his last message to the Trio, who having decided that he was dead, had left him. No doubt to accept their laurel crowns. He had breathed what he supposed was his last, was about to do a quick two step to the Pearly Gates when Alastor Moody grabbed him by the shoulder.

Alastor poured his magic into Severus. The older mage had no finesse. Plus he was angry with Severus, so it hurt as his magic burned away Nagini's poison.

"You Bastard," Moody roared at him. "You think you're gonna die on me? _**NO**_, I have a life debt to repay and I hope you experience the hell you put me through. I'm alive but I've lost everything that ever meant anything to me!"

* * *

"Nessie," Minerva requested. Her sixth sense was bothering her and Severus had given her a very roundabout hint of what was to occur. Tonight, the school that she loved with every fiber of her being; would turn into a battlefield, its ground soaked with innocent blood. She was holding onto her daughter a bit too tightly, but she was really quite scared that this was the last time she would see her daughter.

"Yes, Mrs. Professor McGonagall?" the little house elf queried.

"I desire you to take Nora to Kingsley's home in Barbados tonight. Take _**everything**_ with you and please do so immediately," Minerva requested. "If anything should happen to Kingsley and me, you're to raise her. I know that you will do your absolute best, but please make sure she knows about _**both**_ her fathers."

"Mrs. Professor McGonagall," protested the House Elf. "Nessie _**no**_ leaving."

"I'm ordering you. Nora has to be removed from Hogwarts as I need to be able to fight without worrying about her safety. I know she will be safe with you," Minerva then stopped talking and inhaled. "Go."

Minerva kissed her wiggling daughter one last time and then handed her to Nessie.

"There's a necklace with a rose pendant. You are to give it to her when she starts school. It was given to me by both her fathers."

That done, she began securing the defenses, rounding up the armored sentries that stood immobile for so many centuries. "Hogwarts is threatened! Man the boundaries. Protect us!" she commanded.

Time was fluid, she noticed. It seemed to be going so fast, and then she would realize that mere minutes had gone by, not hours, not days. Filius, dear sweet Filius, still traumatized by that accidental death in a dueling match of so many years previously, was being an absolute brick.

"Minerva, you do realize we can't keep out You-Know-Who indefinitely."

"That doesn't mean we can't delay him. And his name is Voldemort, so you might as well use it, he's going to try and kill you either way," Minerva informed Filius.

The diminutive Charms Master's smile was not amused. "I know he'll wish to kill me as I'm an abomination, a half-breed. I think we're lower than the Muggle-born on the Voldemort scale. However, Min?"

She heard the question in his voice, the one that kept her awake during innumerous nights.

"I'm not sure what side Severus really is on," she confessed. "There were times when I _**knew**_ it was one of Albus' schemes. Sometimes, I wasn't so sure."

"Don't kill him, Min," Filius softly requested.

That request played over and over in her mind when she dueled Severus. Slash and parry, dive and spin, advance and lunge and then a final scream of "Coward!" She knew how much he hated that term, how that word had shaped the young man he once was, and she desired to deeply wound him.

He did a bunk then, leaving the snape-sized hold in the window, and she struggled to catch her breath. It was time to go face Voldemort, to give Harry Potter some time to find whatever he was looking for. That poor boy with the haunted eyes, who had cast an Unforgivable…. Crucio'd Amycus Carrow. Amycus' crime had been to spit at her and Harry had Crucio'd him. Then the boy... no… the young man had looked at her after he had finished casting, hoping that she'd forgive him.

She was grasping at straws and she finally uttered the most inane comment. "Potter, I - that was very - very gallant of you."

That wounded look in his eyes, how he hoped that his teacher didn't think he had gone too far, how it tore at her heart. What had Albus done to Harry? She didn't care a lick that Amycus had spit at her; she was more worried about her former student's soul. Harry's and yes…. Severus Snape's soul.

"You're not facing Voldemort by yourself, Minerva." That voice, with its Caribbean lilt, could only belong to Kingsley Shacklebolt. The first time she had seen him in months, her hair was in shambles, her robe torn and she had sent Nora to safety. "You've done well, so well, my dearest Minerva. However, it is time to share your burden."

"Kingsley…" she protested.

"Lee… you can call me, _**Lee**_. I won't have a problem, he did, after all, and you're my wife. I've quite missed being called Lee these past few years," Shacklebolt assured her. "You and I will face him together, and I'm quite sure that Alastor Moody will be yelling pointers from the afterlife."

They were an odd trio, two tired souls, haunted by their mutual ghost, but they were then unexpectedly joined by a rotund figure in green silk pyjamas.

"You truly need a Slytherin to balance this," Horace Slughorn explained. "And since Alastor's not here, I will take his place."

The three fought against Voldemort, unyielding, even after Harry Potter's limp form was carried into Hogwarts, cradled by Hagrid. The trio slashed and burned, standing firm against him. When Bellatrix LeStrange fell, slain by the Avenging Angel known as Molly Prewett Weasley, Voldemort went mad, blasting the three of them with a mindless rage.

Everything went dark and her last thought was that she hoped that Alastor would understand and yes… approve… of what she had done.

* * *

She woke first, with Kingsley… Lee… lying prone next to Horace. The two men were crumpled among the wreckage but thankfully, both were still breathing. Madam Pomfrey gave her a quick smile. "They'll be fine; they both took the worst of the blast for you. They should be waking soon."

"Voldemort?" Minerva asked.

"As dead as Harry Potter wasn't dead."

Minerva struggled to her feet, and gave a fake smile when she realized that the ragged crowds of students, Aurors and various walking wounded were loudly cheering her. She hurt everywhere and her hair was completely down. She thought of that long ago day, her first day of teaching and how a very serious Professor Dumbledore had warned her to keep her long hair contained. He had possessed a strong belief that nothing caused a instructor to lose the respect of their students faster than if their hair looked like a haystack caught unaware by a windstorm. She could only hope her hair looked THAT good.

"My God, Poppy," Minerva whispered as she counted the still, shrouded figures that rested on the Hogwarts tables. "How many dead?"

"Far too many," was Poppy's somber response.

"We will rebuild the school," Minerva vowed. "If we can get the funds from the Ministry."

"Oh, I think you will get the funds, Minerva," a bedraggled Filius Flitwick assured her. "Your husband is acting Minister of Magic. When he wakes up, he may wish that he had stayed comatose."

Well, yes, Lee would probably agree. Minerva smiled and then she began to laugh, because Filius was quite correct. She was still laughing when she felt someone touch her shoulder. She put her own hand on Lee's and gave it a squeeze.

"If you really loved me, you _**wouldn't**_ laugh," Kingsley told her. His voice was somber but his dark eyes were quite amused. "I'll never see you and Nora if I'm busy playing Minister of Magic."

"You won't be _**playing**_ Minister of Magic," Minerva informed him, a bit tartly. "You will _**be**_ Minister of Magic."

* * *

The summons came and Alastor Moody found himself standing on the very ground of the Castle. Naturally, Severus hadn't given him any concrete instructions, so he disillusioned himself and began helping the supposed good guys.

There was a pink-haired girl and a heavily scarred man who were fighting, and they were badly outnumbered. They were… Tonks and Lupin, two of the Order members and his memory was jogged by Tonks' pink hair. He _**knew**_ her and that she needed his help. He took down a few of the Death Eaters and he realized that he had accidentally let his disillusionment slip because Tonks saw him. Bloody hell, fighting while invisible took a lot of concentration.

"MAD-EYE?" she cried.

Stupid pink haired prat, nearly got Hexed while she was standing still in stunned surprise over him not being dead, so he Petrified the Death Eaters before they got her.

"Nymphadora! Constant Vigilance!" He roared before he Disllusioned himself once more.

"Remus?" he heard Nymphadora question. "Did you see who I just saw?"

"I saw him too. He had a full beard and he had both eyes, but that _**was**_ Alastor," Remus shakily agreed. "Antonin Dolohov recognized him too, as he left himself wide open to be petrified. If that specter really was Alastor Moody, he'll be quite irate that we're standing here, vulnerable for an attack."

Well, good. It looked like the two of them might be able to survive this insanity, so he needed to go find someone else to assist, Alastor decided. With each step down the corridor, his memories came flooding back.

He had snuck his first real kiss _**on the lips**_ with Minerva _**there**_.

He had disavowed Henry Moody as his brother _**there**_.

Snuck into a broom closet with Kingsley, _**there**_.

Severus Snape had killed Albus Dumbledore on the tower. Yet the young man had saved his life and had brought him here to help Albus' followers. It didn't make a lot of sense, but Alastor admitted that he wasn't thinking too clearly.

He was in a hallway when he saw them. Kingsley… no… _**LEE**_… and Minerva. His heart shattered when he witnessed a scene of unbearable emotional intimacy.

"You're not facing him by yourself, Minerva." That soft voice, with its Caribbean lilt, could only belong to Kingsley Shacklebolt. The tone was affectionate and concerned and most assuredly, it was directed toward _**Minerva**_. "You've done well, so well, my dearest Minerva. However, it is time to share your burden."

"Kingsley…" she protested. Her normally pristine hair was in shambles, hanging loosely down her shoulders. There was a smudge on her nose, her robe was ripped and by God, Alastor had never made her that happy. And Lee looked happy also.

"Lee… you can call me, _**Lee**_. I won't have a problem, he did, after all, and you're my wife."

They were married? _**Married**_? That bastard Severus must have known, so a stumbling Alastor fled from the scene, Stunning and Petrifying the various Death Eaters as he came across them. Yes, he should have stayed to help Kingsley and Minerva but his reappearance would have only distracted them when they needed to focus on staying alive. Plus, he was looking for that damnable Severus Snape.

He helped where he could, saving Forge or Ged but his control was slipping so more and more people were seeing him.

At long last, Alastor found Severus, lying in the dirt, with three scared kids who were so shellshocked that they couldn't even think to call for a Healer. If there even was any Healer in the immediate area. Severus had given his last testament to the Trio, who having declared him dead, decided to leave him. The bastard was about to escape from Alastor by doing a quick two step to the Pearly Gates when Alastor Moody grabbed him by the shoulder.

Alastor poured his magic into Severus. The old mage had no finesse plus he was furious with Severus, so hopefully it hurt the bastard as his magic burned away Nagini's poison. Severus Snape's dark eyes widened, he took a deep breath and the hole in his neck closed.

"You Bastard," Moody roared at him. "You think you're gonna die on me? _**NO**_, I have a life debt to repay and I hope you experience the hell you put me through. I'm alive but I've lost everything that ever meant anything to me! They're _**MARRIED**_! You knew they were _**MARRIED**_!"


	11. The Days after the Battle of Hogwarts

Alastor Moody staggered away from the Shrieking Shack.

Severus Snape was still alive, in the Shack, but as Alastor's conscience reminded him, he needed a _**real**_ Healer. "Somehow, I doubt Kwasi and Anna will be up to a magical snake bite," had been Alastor's sardonic thought. Yet he paid his dues, Alastor Moody did, and he wasn't stingy. Fair and square had been his motto in life, so he had gone back into the Shack where a barely conscious Severus Snape was sprawled in the dirt.

That would never do, not for a hero of the realm, so Alastor had put Severus on a mattress, yes, a lumpy, bumpy mistake of a mattress. Least, he wasn't sprawled in the dirt. Had cleaned him up, given him as much magical energy as Alastor could spare in order to promote his healing.

Hadn't been very gentle about it, but well, he had never been much of a Healer. Least from what he remembered.

"I'll get you help. However, when they ask, you will have no idea who I am, who helped you and where I am. I won't be in Manchester, neatly tucked away in that flat of yours as I am getting lost. I'm sure Harry Potter will confirm your Dumbledore's man. To the end, just like I was. So between us, all debts are paid, Severus."

"Agreed," mouthed Severus.

He sent a message via his Patronus, a shaggy Irish terrier that loped off to Madam Pomfrey. The mediwitch would most likely be the only person not willing to drown a severely depleted Severus Snape on sight. Nope, she'd heal him first, and then hang him by his bollocks. Girl had a bit of temper and a keen eye for justice.

That done, Alastor Moody returned back to Manchester, said his goodbyes and then disappeared.

* * *

Minerva was flooded with the various minutiae required for the rebuilding of Hogwarts, not the least of which was that the recovering Severus Snape was hidden away in a private ward. While Harry Potter was shouting to the rafters that the heroic Severus Snape had always been Dumbledore's man, Acting Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt had decided it would be best to keep Severus' location classified. At least until Severus was able to hold his wand without a noticeable palsy.

Regretfully, she and Kingsley had both agreed that also Nora should be kept hidden away in Barbados, at least until Hogwarts was secured. However, she and Kingsley created time via a clandestine use of a timeturner in their day to spend several hours a day with Nora. It was wonderful to see how Kingsley rebuilt his relationship with Nora, and to see her face light up when she saw her father.

And Kingsley Shacklebolt, what ever was she to do with him? Their relationship was in limbo, as she had never put any thought into what would happen between them after the war had been won. He was her Rock of Gibraltar as he had assisted on squiring her during her visit to her deceased student's parents. Especially the Muggleborn, who had no idea for what their children had died, only that they had died.

However, there not even the slightest inkling of a snog, let alone a shag. He stayed in her quarters at night, curled up on her _**settee**_. The first night she had been delightedly surprised at his speed at restoring their sexual status quo when he informed her that he was staying in her quarters. Fortunately, she had found something romantic, something that hid the worst of her perceived flaws. Then she had waited all night in her EMPTY bed for him.

It was after visiting Colin Creevey's grieving parents that Kingsley pulled rank. As Acting Minister of Magic, he ordered Filius to oversee Hogwarts for two days as he viewed Minerva as exhausted. Even while she was protesting his high-handedness as he was only the ACTING Minister of Magic, she found herself in her quarters, summarily stripped of her clothes and dropped into a hot bath.

Hot but not too hot, the water, full of scented bubbles, came up to her shoulders. There were assorted lit candles complete with soft music playing. And someone had a fair hand at Transfiguration as the tub was now large enough for a dozen people. There was even a glass of champagne with a strawberry placed just so.

"Poppy," Minerva growled.

"Actually this is Filius' idea; Poppy just added a few touches. The Castle agreed, as it let me take you directly here, rather than it making you walk back. Now, Minerva, the Castle is very appreciative of your hard work, but it believes that you need to take a breather."

"The Castle?" A disbelieving Minerva asked.

"Ask Filius, he's been chatting with the Castle regularly. As the Senior House Head, he and the Castle are quite close. The Castle is quite worried about you and has decided that you require a nice, long, hot bath to relax. It's agreed to keep the water hot and circulating until you get out of the bath. Pomona Sprout added some herbs to the water so you'll have a nice restorative sleep tonight and Horace… Horace has outdone himself."

"Merlin's left tit," Minerva cursed. "Didn't we just finish a rebellion? Now do I have to keep an eye on my staff?"

"No, nothing like that. I truly didn't know Horace swung that way. No, he has donated two bottles of wine and he has instructed the House Elves to prepare you a nice, light meal that you can eat when you're done soaking. You're not eating, Minerva, and you're far thinner than you were when Nora was conceived."

"I worked to lose the baby weight," murmured Minerva. She was resting her head against a pillow and the jets in the tub were relaxing her tight muscles. Since when did she have jets in her tub? The Castle must have heard her thought as the water circulated faster for a bit as though to remind her of its generosity and then settled down. "Thank you, Hogwarts."

"You didn't need to lose the weight, Minerva," Kingsley protested. "Not for me. I like a real woman with real curves. Just don't tell Arthur, _**please**_."

"Lee…" Minerva protested. Really, there must be something in the water as she was quite talkative. "You are very young and _**extremely**_ fit. I wished to be in tiptop shape when I saw you again. However, it's all been for naught."

In response, Kingsley sat down next to the tub and rested his head on the rim, so that they were eye to eye.

"Minerva, it's been nine months since we last spent any quality time together. It also took a great deal of effort for us to get that comfortable with each other. You must let me know how you wish to proceed, especially with regards to _**that**_. I'm _**not**_ Alastor as he would already have been in your bed, intimately saluting you. I'm not saying that's a bad way to end a long term separation, but that was Alastor's way of handling a reunion. The first night back was always spent in vigorous physical communion because that was how he showed love. There were a few times when he should have taken a little more time…. After his time with Barty, I was willing to wait until he felt comfortable, but he had to prove that he was physically capable of satisfying me. Idiot nearly killed himself by dosing on dragon's blood."

Kingsley flashed a crooked smile as he remembered a fond though slightly exasperating memory.

"I shouldn't complain, as that meant I was the sexual benefactor, not the supplicant. He was also extremely vocal, which was a delightful change. Normally, he was quite reserved when we were intimate. When he was younger, was he ever so joyful that he just laughed out loud? Did you ever break a bed slat or three because he was just a little too boisterous?"

"Yes and yes," Minerva admitted. "After I miscarried, when everything was going horribly wrong between us, he went all inward and introspective. He ceased being lighthearted… and became _**gallant**_. He put me on a pedestal. _**We**_ stopped making love; instead _**he**_ started making love to _**me**_. Like he was a petitioner."

Minerva shook her head and paused.

"….as though _**he**_ was the problem. Rather than my wonky womb. I loved Alastor deeply and there is a part of me that always will love him, but sometimes... "

"You wished it wasn't so hard to love him," Kingsley inserted.

"No, Kingsley. Loving him was easy, letting go of him completely was utterly impossible. I wish it was. It has not been fair to you," whispered Minerva.

"You need to stop worrying about me. I've long since made my peace with being part of this troika. Now, you take your time soaking, have dinner and then to bed with you."

"Stop sleeping on the settee, Kingsley. My bed is big enough for three people, four, even, as long as they're very good friends."

Again, the crooked smile. "I'll join you, but tonight, you're getting some sleep. Tomorrow, we can discuss bringing Nora home."

Minerva smiled and relaxed into the bath. She closed her eyes for a bit and then snuck a glance at Kingsley. He looked knackered as well he should be. She knew that he was putting in at least sixty hours in every twenty four and taking cat naps in order to stay on his feet. Unexpectedly, she had an impish idea which might get things moving in a proper direction.

"Kingsley, come join me," she invited. "Horace is such a romantic. That's why he enlarged the tub."

"It's quite tempting."

"I'll soap your back," she teased.

* * *

Before long, Kingsley Shacklebolt was in the tube with her. There was some splashing, an accidental near drowning before they got themselves comfortable. The idea of two people sharing a tub was romantic, but however the logistics was a bitch. She was sitting next to Kingsley and they were content just to relax. Well, Kingsley was. Kingsley was close to falling asleep and drowning. Which would be hard to explain.

"I ache in places I didn't know I possessed," he admitted.

"Stop _**Timing**_ it, Lee," she ordered.

"I must. There is an unbelievable amount to be done and now is the time to do it. Before everyone realizes that I don't have a bloody clue. When you don't have an idea of what needs to be done, when everything is slipping through your fingers, that's the time you need to appear to be most in control."

"Thank you, Alastor." Minerva couldn't help but quip. She quickly turned somber. "I truly appreciate you talking to Harry and the rest."

"About getting their arses back in school? I'd love to have that trio and Neville Longbottom in the Auror Corps, but they have to finish their education. They won't have Albus Dumbledore to guide them. Maybe Remus Lupin though… when he recovers."

"I may wish him for a Defence teacher," protested Minerva.

"Any idea who patched him up?" Kingsley asked. "It seems we had someone who was willy nilly scampering through the battlefield, healing the good guys. All we know is that whoever it was had a Patronus that was a disreputable, scruffy looking dog. Plus, he seemed out of practice… lot of power, no finesse."

"Poppy is afraid of dogs and there was such chaos that she can't remember the voice of the Patronus except that she thought it was someone she knew." Minerva murmured. "And why do you say 'he'?"

"Filius is investigating out mysterious benefactor. Holly wand, but the core wasn't in alignment with the wizard. Holly and unicorn hair wand, a male magician, quite powerful, by that I mean, extremely powerful, but completely out of practice as he was shaking the roof with the amount of power he was producing. The reason why Severus and the rest haven't regain consciousness isn't because of their injuries, it's because our Mystery Magician magically overloaded them. "

"I don't understand," Minerva admitted.

"If you put too much electricity into a fuse box, you blow a fuse and you have to reset…." Kingsley paused and then sighed. "I keep forgetting, you're Pure Blood. You've never seen a fuse box."

They sat in the tub for a bit longer, their hands no longer quite as proper as the Younger Generation would bare think possible for _**Professor McGonagall, **_bastion of suitable behavior_**.**_

"What's bothering you, Lee?" she asked. There was some issue in the back of his mind that was twinging him.

"It was brought to my attention today that there is a rabble of rogue House Elves who have an orphanage full of children. I don't know how it started, but there are apparently dozens of orphans who only crime is that at least one of their parents was Muggleborn. I asked Molly Weasley to investigate it for me, as I was in three different places at the time and couldn't dare split myself further. It's becoming harder for me to know where and when I really am but I _**must**_ make time for them tomorrow."

"Kingsley, promise me, tomorrow, no Timing it. Give your body a chance to rest." Minerva kept her voice soft and free from 'condescending teacher'. "You're young, but you're not indefatigable. Tomorrow, we'll bring Nora home and then you and I will go to that orphanage _**together**_."

When Kingsley's broad shoulders relaxed noticeably, Minerva snapped a quick, "I wouldn't let you go there by yourself."

"It's not _that_, you're very busy here at Hogwarts. I couldn't ask you but I'm delighted that you'll be with me. I'm… knackered… Minerva. Really and truly knackered and I'm not in any emotional shape to relive my childhood trauma. However, my main concern right now is that you need to eat."

Gracefully, he got out of the tub, allowing her a raree show of a lynx in his prime and she blushed when she realized that his wand was reading to flick and swish… for HER. Ancient, haggard crone that she was, feeling every single one of her seventy years, and he was giving her a literal standing ovation.

"No worries, Minerva. Only if and when you're ready," Kingsley reassured her. He wrapped a towel around his waist, obstructing her fine view. That done, he put baffies by the tub and he held out a large towel.

She looked at him, stared at the towel and wished she had a belly full of Dutch Courage. Because she was no Botticelli's Venus, to spring from the sea, clad in nothing but sea foam.

"I'll close my eyes, Minerva," Kingsley promised. "I wish you were more comfortable with me admiring your body. It's a simply amazing body as you grew our daughter in it."

"It's not that, I fear you will ravish me on the spot," was Minerva's lightning fast retort. A wry attempt at changing the conversation.

"I would much rather you were comfy when we make love. Perhaps a nice, large bed with a great many pillows. Not on the tile floor as my back is a bit dodgy these days."

Facing Voldemort was far easier than standing up in the tub and letting Kingsley look at her. However, he quickly wrapped her in a warm towel and began gently drying her.

"You'll have to handle your hair, as I am quite unfamiliar with the need to dry one's hair," the freshly shorn Kingsley informed her. His grin was saucy and quite contagious.

"I don't ever remember you with hair?" Minerva questioned. "Even as a student…"

"I wore dreads before I first came to Hogwarts. My grandmother insisted on cutting them before I came to Hogwarts as she didn't wish me to look like a boy fresh off the island," Kingsley explained. "She feared a rough transition for me. It turns out; my dreads were the least of the translation issues. I was dark skinned lad who wasn't from Britain and I was from a non-Magical family. But that is a story for another time."

"Now, Rolanda picked out the dressing gown for you, Pomona has set the table with flowers and Horace has instructed the House Elves to prepare a proper trysting meal. Then, after you're quite tipsy, I will put you to bed and possibly take advantage of you as I have nothing on my calendar until tomorrow morning. God help us all, but I put Percy Weasley in charge of the Ministry and he has to put out any fires. I deputized his father to assist him as I need those two men talking to each other. Alastor's belief was that Percy got ignored in that mad circus of gingers, so he thought he'd get his family's attention by being a success in his career. His self-confidence is shattered after everything that's happened, so I need to rebuild him and get him back into the Weasley fold. He could be an excellent right hand man for me."

* * *

Kingsley and Minerva deliberately kept their conversation light during dinner. After the horrors of the last two weeks since the battle of Hogwarts, they needed a change to recharge. They prattled on inane subjects such Quidditch and they discussed Nora's possible future. All in all, it was a nice cozy meal and Minerva realized that she had a bit too much to drink as she was not just tipsy, but in danger of becoming one with her inner self. She really hadn't imbibed that much wine, but her physical and emotional exhaustion was hitting her hard.

"Let me give you a massage, Minerva," Kingsley offered. "I see that you're favoring your back. Pomona included massage oil in her part of tonight."

Ostensibly he then went to check on Nora's room, to confirm that it was ready for her big arrival for the next day. No, the truth was that he was giving her privacy to undress.

"I need to get over this hang-up of mine," Minerva chastised herself. "I want him and for some reason, he desires me. We're both adults and I'm married to him."

Deliberately, she undressed herself, and undid her hair. It was long enough to give her some coverage, in a Lady Godiva type way, Minerva noted. The mirror Minerva pulled at her hair, this way and that, in a futile attempt to provide more coverage. To cover the scars left by four stunners, to hide breasts that sagged, the stretch marks from Nora.

"I wish you could trust me when I confess that I find you utterly breath-taking," was Kingsley's soft assurance. He was standing out of vision line of her mirror, but still he had witnessed her trying to hide herself in her hair.

"I wish I was a few years younger," Minerva admitted.

"I'm glad you're not. You're in your sexual prime, and quite frankly, I've peaked. It's all downhill from the age of thirty five for the average wizard. Meanwhile, you're young enough that we have to worry about birth control charms plus you're in your sexual peak. It's really quite nerve-wracking for me. I just have five words. "

Kingsley then got on his knees and looked up at her. He was the picture of absolute sincerity, which would fool anyone – if you didn't look at his dark eyes, which were full of mischief. "Have pity on me, Minerva. I don't think I can keep up with you sexually."

"Kingsley!" Minerva protested. Well, she tried to protest but her laugh ruined it. "To bed with you."

"I'd be honored," he insisted. Then he stood up, swept her off her feet and took her to bed.

* * *

Kingsley put Nora down for her afternoon nap and then went out to join Minerva.

"I'd like an afternoon nap," he whispered sotto voce. "Someone wore me out last night. You have no idea . I felt like I was a broken down Bluebottle in the Word Quidditch Cup. I just _**couldn't**_ keep up with the pace and she just craved more… _**speed**_." He paused deliberately and winked.

"I heard that the Holyhead Harpy Seeker had absolutely no complaints," Minerva quipped. She was pink-cheeked and yes, dimpled.

"Not a Harpy, a long haired Goddess," Kingsley retorted.

"I need a bin in which to be sick," inserted the irrepressible Uncle Filius Flitwick to Uncle Horace. Both wizards had agreed to take a break from restoring Hogwarts and instead guard Nora, foolishly believing it would be a nice respite.

"Filius, I appreciate you and Horace watching Nora," the no-longer Kingsley but now Acting Minister of Magic Shacklebolt announced. His soft voice hardened in more authoritative tones. "I have Charlie and Bill Weasley as sentries also. Any attacks, I give you permission to kill first and then ask questions. Now, Minerva, it's time to go the orphanage and we will have company with us. Lucius Malfoy and his lovely wife Narcissa will be joining us, along with several Aurors. I felt it appropriate that Lucius sees that damage he has caused. He'll understand firsthand the Ministry's gratitude regarding his sizable donation to funding an orphanage. I'm wondering if we should honor him by calling it the Lucius Malfoy Orphanage."

Filius shot Minerva a warning look that Kingsley failed to see. She nodded her head in agreement; she knew that Kingsley wasn't looking forward to visiting the orphanage as it was stirring the cauldrons of his past.

"Very well then, shall we going?" Kingsley announced.

* * *

There were adults in the house now, Bryce noted. The one that seemed to be in charge was a plump ginger haired woman who quickly gotten everything sorted. Including the strange little creatures that spoke funny. He liked that the ginger woman had taken control of the chaos as he was the youngest and quietest in the house. However the pandemonium had quickly returned, now that there was a ginger haired man in the house, who had only one ear. He was loud and boisterous and most of the children followed the Ginger Pied Piper everywhere. Bryce didn't, as his father had told him to be a good boy as he'd be back for him. That had been right before the House Elves had found him and brought him to this strange place.

Now, Bryce knew that Papa was never coming back as the other boys had told him what dead meant, but still he wished to be a good boy.

"Bryce!" the woman called when she saw him. She gave him a big smile and motioned towards her. "Come here, please. Yes, you can bring your book with you. We have some new clothes for you. Proper clothes that will fit you. We're having company today and I want you to look very nice. And we're doing something with your hair. George?"

"Lee is here," the one eared man said. "Lee has experience with dreads."

"Just please, can you two behave today? We've got the Minister coming," the woman explained.

"Good old Kingsley. Brave Kingsley as he's married to Professor McGonagall," the man retorted. He flashed a conspiratory smile at Bryce and said, "Being married to her means he's a very valiant soul."

"The MINISTER," the woman stressed. "You treat him with respect."

"Yes, Mother." His tone implied that he would do no such thing and the woman shook her head. The one-eared man then focused on him, "Now who is this young man?"

"His name is Bryce. We think he's five and he doesn't talk. Don't take the book from him as his father gave it to him," the woman said. "He keeps it with him all the time so it's safe. A few of the older boys think it's funny to take it from him, but I've put a stop to it. It means a great deal to him so he wants to keep it safe. "

Bryce nodded his head.

"That's important. Your father gave it to you. Now, let's see what I have in my pocket for young Master Bryce," George said. He pulled out several strange objects and then gave his pocket a tug. "Come on now, don't be shy."

Bryce watched as George pulled out a stuffed dragon that was far larger than his pocket. The tall man crouched down to his level and presented him with the dragon.

"It's for you," George explained. "And no one will be able to take him from you because he'll always just come right back to you."

He knew his father would want him to say 'Thank you' because that was what good boys did, but he was feeling overwhelmed, so he shrunk into himself. He clutched the stuffed dragon tightly, so tightly that it gave a slight growl in protest.

"You're welcome, Bryce," George said in a soft voice. "I heard you think 'thank you'. It's amazing what you can hear with only one ear."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was a broken man. He knew it, accepted it but a part of him still despised Kingsley Shacklebolt as an upstart Mudblood. How _**dare**_ he parade around as the Acting Minister of Magic? However, he was a master of politics, so he struggled to keep his contempt from his face.

Kingsley Shacklebolt wasn't having any of his faux meekness. Instead, Shacklebolt decided to go _mano a mano_ with Lucius and that meant a private conversation.

"Now, I'm so glad that you and your family could join us on our excursion. I want you three to see firsthand the havoc that you and the rest of your Death Eaters have caused. Where we are going, there are thirty three children who no longer have parents because of you. I want you to think of those faces every night when you go to sleep. I want them to haunt you. I want you to imagine that each and every one of those children might have been Draco. Because, for all your many faults, you do love your son. And after you see these orphans, that you have created, I know you will _**gladly**_ contribute to their care."

Dutifully, Lucius Malfoy nodded.

* * *

Minerva allowed herself to touch Kingsley's hand before they entered the derelict house that had functioned as an impromptu orphanage. A small gesture that she prayed would steady him as he was busy reliving his past experiences. Her touch earned her a crooked smile, as he appreciated what she was doing.

"Very well, let us announce our arrival," Kingsley commanded. Percy Weasley knocked on the door and Molly Weasley's beaming face soon appeared.

"Hello, Minister."

"Kingsley," Kingsley reminded her. "I will _**always**_ be Kingsley to you. I think you know everyone. I hope you don't mind, but I brought the Malfoys along. They requested to join us, as they may be making a sizeable donation to help support the orphanage. I thought it proper that they see where their Galleons will be spent."

"How kind," Molly said. Her voice said otherwise. And the challenging look she shot the Malfoys cowed the blonde trio as recent events had firmly changed how the supposedly matronly Molly Weasley was viewed in the wizarding world. Kingsley had always viewed her as a force to be reckoned with, and he had always attempted to stay on her good side.

"Mini… Kingsley, you told me that there were thirty three children. There are actually fifty seven here. The House Elves have done everything they could, but we need to get these children into proper housing. They've got six or more children to a room!"

"I give my assurances that this will be a top priority," Kingsley assured Molly. "I _**will**_ make time for this."

"I have all the children in the garden. Since the weather was nice, I thought we could have a picnic," Molly explained. "Come along now. The House Elves have really tried, but these children needs homes."

The house was small and dank, and Kingsley had to crouch a few times due to the ceiling. Minerva was right next to him, a calming influence on his unease.

"That concludes the tour of the house," Molly explained after a far too brief excursion. "Now here we are!"

Kingsley wasn't sure what to expect when he walked outside. He wasn't anticipating fifty odd youthful voices chorusing, "Good morning, Minister Kingsley."

The weight of the responsibility for these children came crashing down onto his shoulders. What was he supposed to do? He had fought Voldemort in a three way duel, yet it didn't compare to _**this**_. He had no budget, he was barely holding onto his position and how the hell could he really force the Malfoys to pay for this?

"Easy," Minerva whispered. "You can do this."

"Because I have to," Kingsley whispered. Duty was lighter than a feather, yet heavier than a mountain. That had been Alastor's favorite savings and he wished the old Auror was here to see this situation. Even the redoubtable Alastor Moody might turn tail and run at this mess.

He spoke. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what he said, but Minerva nodded approvingly when he concluded his speech with a hearty, "Now go eat!"

"Molly, there are only fifty six children here, where is the other one?" He asked.

"Let me check." With years of practice managing the Weasley Horde, Molly soon was able to determine who was missing. "It's Bryce. I think this is too overwhelming for him. He's only five and he's quite traumatized. I'll make up a plate of food for him to make sure he gets fed."

"I'd like to meet him," Kingsley decided. "I'd like to meet all of the children."

The various children were paraded in front of him and the Malfoys. Kingsley asked them their names, their ages and various other questions, anything to drive the inhumanity of the situation home to the Malfoys. When the last child, with no signs of the lost Bryce, had left, he turned to the Malfoys. The three of them were quite somber.

"I think it's time for you three to leave. You will make your regrets, and go. You will be escorted back to the Malfoy Manor and tomorrow, you will Owl me your plans on how you will pay for this. Have a good day. Aurors, please take the Malfoys home, as Cissy is delicate. The heat is getting to her."

The eugenistic egomaniacs exited, and Kingsley sighed. He had a pounding headache and he wished for a moment to compose himself. He returned back to the kitchen and stared out the window at the horde of parentless children. What the hell was he supposed to do with them all? He had commandeered Molly Weasley, but she couldn't be responsible for fifty six… no… fifty seven children if they ever managed to locate the mislaid Bryce.

There was a noise behind him, so he turned quickly. It was an instinctive move, honed by all the time he had been on the run from Voldemort's forces. There was a little boy in the room with him, a little boy with mocha skin and dreadlocks who had the eyes of a lost soul. The boy was clutching a tattered book and stuffed dragon that was growling.

In all his life, Kingsley Shacklebolt had only once fallen in love at first sight. That was when Poppy had placed a wiggling Nora in his arms. Now was the second time as Kingsley desired nothing more than to take this young boy far, far away from here.

"Hello, Bryce. I'm Lee," Kingsley introduced himself. He kept his voice soft and soothing, as Bryce seemed skittish. "Did you get fed?"

The little boy shook his head, so Kingsley held out his hand. "Come with me, and I'll make sure you get something to eat."

The little boy juggled his prized possessions but try as he might; there was no spare hand forthcoming in which to hold Kingsley's hand.

"How about I carry you? Now let's get you something to eat."

* * *

Minerva was everywhere, mentally cataloging what needed to be done, what House Elves from Hogwarts might be spared, debating if the remaining Ravenclaw towers might be a better option for these young souls. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kingsley. He was carrying what appeared to be a miniature version of himself, and the two of them were near the heavily laden picnic table.

And there were two Aurors hovering behind him, each carrying a plate. One was for the little boy, as Kingsley would ask him something and depending on the little boy's response, something would be added or not to the plate.

"Molly?" Minerva asked, as she was a pragmatic soul and she knew a lost cause when she saw one. The empathetic Kingsley had taken the boy on as his personal cause and Minerva could not chastise him. Because if Kingsley hadn't swooped up the little boy then Minerva would have. "What do you know about that little boy? Does he have any family? I believe Kingsley has become quite attached."

"Bryce gets lost in the shuffle. He's also the youngest and by the far the quietest, so he gets bullied. I've put a stop to it. For example, his father gave him a book of Muggle bedtime stories, and he refuses to let go of it. Some of the older children would think it quite the joke to take it from him. It's not that they're bad kids, but they're children. Traumatized children and the House Elves had all they could do to handle the necessities."

"I wish to foster him," Minerva informed Molly. "He'll be coming home with Kingsley and me today to introduce him to Nora. We'll keep him for longer and longer periods until we're sure Nora has adjusted. I see one foreseeable problem."

"Which is?" Molly asked. The matronly Molly seemed quite concerned.

"I'll need a duplicate dragon. In Purple. For Nora."


	12. Minister Kingsley

It went moderately smoothly, adding Bryce to their family. If one discounted Nora's assorted meltdowns when she realized that she was no longer the center of the universe and Bryce's occasional nightmares from his emotional traumas. However, Nora was normally a quite adaptable soul, so in time, she accepted and adored Bryce as her big brother who was required to pay much attention to her and play dragons all day long.

And while Minerva adored her daughter, because she reminded her so much of Alastor, she grew quite fond of Bryce, who was Kingsley's son in looks and temperament. And yes, she got misty eyed when a introverted Bryce called her 'Mum' for the very first time.

However, something had to ruin their picture perfect life. It was mid-June and Minerva was debating how to handle the current school year. If she chalked it up as a complete waste that meant that there would be a need for remediation for those students who hadn't attended Hogwarts in the past year, plus an increase in the class sizes, which meant more dormitory spaces was needed to be built immediately. It was during this, that Kingsley informed her that the Wizengamot had decided that the Magical World was in need of a permanent leader. Therefore they had changed Kingsley from Acting Minister to the full Minister for Magic.

"They didn't even ask, Minerva," Kingsley protested. "And they've decided we're to have a _**ball**_. We're rebuilding most of Magical Britain and they wish to have a _**ball**_."

"You'll need dress robes," was Minerva's unhelpful comment. "And you know darn well that there is no one else that should be in charge of rebuilding Britain. Because we need a Muggle-born Minister, as we haven't had one in almost three centuries."

"And he won based on a Quidditch bet," Kingsley reminded her. "So, you believe I should agree to this insanity?"

"A little normalcy would be a welcome relief. Plus you can pin a few medals on people, but keep it… austere. Nothing too elaborate; we're still in mourning."

"I'd want you and the children there, during the swearing at ceremony, which means taking our relationship public," Kingsley reminded her.

"Swearing IN ceremony," Minerva retorted. "Though there will be plenty of swearing at later on. When are they having the ball?"

"Saturday."

"It's Wednesday. Do you expect me to find a proper gown in two days?" protested Minerva.

Kingsley looked over The Daily Prophet, and informed her, "Austerity budget, love. What you're wearing is fine."

"Not amused," Minerva retorted. "However what about you?"

"I have set of new dress robes that I never wore. They're in Barbados, so I'll ask Nessie to pop in and grab them."

"Make sure you try them on, you've put on a little weight since we got married," teased Minerva. "Much like I have."

* * *

Really, she had warned him to try on the outfit, so it was his fault and his fault alone when he realized that Nessie had brought him the wrong robes. Well, they were the right robes, as they were the only ones that matched his description of robes in a black robe sheath. However it seemed that his never worn dress robes had been destroyed in Ireland, when Alastor Moody's cottage had been set ablaze. No, the sheath contained Alastor's dress robes, well, not robes, but a bloody black kilt and a matching jacket. With a dress shirt, socks, matching shoes, sporran and a wicked looking dagger.

There were no pants, which meant Alastor had gone regimental.

"Bugger me," Kingsley swore, losing his composure. "They'll think I'm Black Irish!"

He put the outfit on, not really having a choice in the matter as there was nothing else to be done, as he was supposed to meet Minerva in fifteen minutes, having been instructed to be dressed to impress. He was startled to realize that the kilt belonged to a much thinner Alastor as he had already planned on what magical alterations that would be needed to be done. The outfit fit him perfectly, though when he had first met Alastor, Alastor had already outweighed him by a stone or three. He checked himself in the mirror, decided to go regulation, maintaining Alastor's tradition, and then patted himself to make sure everything was down. There was something in the vest pocket, and he pulled it out to find a small package addressed to "Minerva" plus a ring box. He opened the ring box and it confirmed his fears, it was a white gold wedding band.

"Bloody hell, it's his wedding kilt!"

* * *

Kingsley was running late, so Minerva decided to chide him, but gently, on how the Minister of Magic needed to be on time. She was expecting him to be delayed because of some ministry nonsense, but instead she found him sitting on the bed wearing… a kilt. A very high quality black kilt and the cut was traditional.

"I have nothing else to wear," Kingsley informed her. His tone was quite odd, as though he wasn't sure if he was about to laugh or not. "It seems that I grabbed the wrong robe bag when I moved my clothes to Barbados."

"This is Alastor's? I never saw him wear it… and it's old… from the sizing, I'd say he was in mid-twenties… Kingsley… may I look at that dagger?" Minerva paused and then held out her hand.

"It's his wedding kilt. What he planning on wearing when he married you."

Minerva inspected the dagger and then handed it back to Kingsley.

"I was correct, that's my grandfather's dagger. My father gave it to him when Alastor requested his permission to marry me, so please keep it. I don't mind if you wear Alastor's kilt. It would be like he's with us in spirit. Though I should warn you that Alastor would be roaring with laughter realizing that he was involved with the Minister of Magic. As it is, there are moments where I must fight the urge to giggle."

"There were a few presents for you in the pocket." Kingsley then handed them over to Minerva. "One is your wedding ring. You should wear it."

"If it fits, Alastor wasn't the only one that's put on a little weight in last few years." Minerva opened the box and then looked at Kingsley. "Would it bother you if I wore it on my right hand? I'd like to wear it and give it to Nora when she's older."

"Let me put it on your finger, since Alastor isn't here to do the honours," Kingsley requested. Minerva nodded her head and Kingsley carefully put it on her right ring finger. He then gave her ring finger a gentle kiss. "Whenever you look at this ring, just remember how much he loved you."

"I don't need a ring for that," Minerva gently informed Kingsley. "Now let's see what is inside this other package."

She opened the note, smiled briefly at its message and then unwrapped the package. She looked at the contents and explained them to Kinsley. "It's the bracelet to match the rose pendant he gave me when he was twelve. Alastor specifically mentions the thorns on the bracelet to match my thorny temperament. Help me put it on, Lee?"

He was awkward with the clasp but before long, she was wearing it. She rubbed her eyes, and apologized to Kingsley.

"This should be a happy day for you and I'm all weepy because of the memories that the stirring of my past have brought to the surface. I'm sorry, Kingsley. This is so horrid for you. Anyway, rumors have it that I am a fair hand at Transfiguration. Do you wish me to change your outfit into something else? Perhaps a nice Dashiki with a matching Kufi? Or a London suit?"

"Alastor bought this to be worn, and I will wear it proudly, though I might add a Kufi. I would ask one thing, Minerva," Kingsley's voice was quite soft and sincere.

"Whatever you want, love," softly assured Minerva.

"Can you Charm it so it stays down? I don't want to be flaunting my bits on the front cover of The Daily Prophet if there's an unexpected updraft."

* * *

Rita Skeeter was in her glory, what with the striking picture Kingsley and his family made at his swearing in ceremony. He was holding Bryce in his one arm, Minerva was standing next to him and she was holding the kufi-stealing Nora, whose shocking ginger locks was a big contrast to her family's dark hair. Maybe, they'd think she was adopted, maybe a few might think she was actually Kingsley's biological daughter, it didn't matter. Just as long as his family was there.

The ceremony completed, the children went home to Hogwarts with the dutiful Nessie who had also been included in the seemingly mandatory Shacklebolt-McGongall family portraits.

He kept his partners limited at the ball, mainly Minerva and the various female Order members. He did dance with the newly engaged Madam Pomfrey, offering to perform her marriage to Filius as his first official function as a fully-functional Minster for Magic, but mainly it was a low-key affair. He had insisted on an empty table to represent those that had fallen in the battle against Voldemort which had caused quite the stir, but he didn't care. There was a place setting for Albus, one for Emmeline, one for Alastor, one for Amelia…

He had grabbed a dance with Dora Lupin to prevent being forced to dance with the formidable Augusta Longbottom. She looked like a real toe stomper and Alastor's shoes (and hence Kingsley's toes) weren't up to being trodden upon.

"No, I still don't know who rescued me," Dora teased. "I know you wish to give him a medal, but it's all still a blur. But really, Kingsley, you've given medals to everyone tonight; even Abeforth's goat got one."

"I'm rather disappointed that he didn't bring her, but he says crowds make her … kiddish."

Dora groaned at the pun, and then pounced. "Married life is agreeing with you. However, I never thought you were one for a kilt."

"It was Alastor's old kilt. I thought I'd wear it in remembrance of him," Kingsley lied. Last thing he wished was for someone to find out that he hadn't deliberately chosen to wear the outfit. They would publish it in one of the local gossips rags and Nessie would find out. He really couldn't handle a despondent House Elf as he barely knew what to do with a happy House Elf.

"Kingsley, you can refuse to answer this, but speaking of Alastor. _Nora_?" Dora asked.

He nodded and further explained, "Keep it under your hat. She will always know that she has two fathers, but we don't need it in the press."

"I don't suppose her first words were, 'Constant Vigiliance'?" Dora grinned and then she faltered in mid-step. She stumbled and Kingsley grabbed her to prevent her from falling.

"You trip?" Kingsley asked. "Your husband will be vexed with me."

"No, a memory just jarred loose. I remember Alastor yelling that at me, but I can't remember where," she admitted.

They continued dancing for a bit, and then he returned her to Remus. The werewolf was still recovering from his injuries suffered at the Battle of Hogwarts, but his future was brighter now that he had multiple job offers.

"Don't start a bidding war between my wife and me," Kingsley reminded Remus.

"He's worth every penny and more," Dora purred as she kissed her husband.

He easily agreed and made the rounds making small talk. He avoided the various females who wished to dance with him by deft maneuvering and blatantly ignoring their 'come hither' gestures. His politicking done, he requested the last dance with his wife.

"I'd like to go home now, because this kilt will be tenting in a bit," he teased Minerva.

"I could fix that for you," Minerva murmured. "I think I know a libido inhibitor."

"Can't we just work out my little problem in bed?"

Perhaps Minerva had a bit too much to drink as she giggled and whispered in his ear, "I love you. And I'm not telling you that just because I've had to deflect multiple hexes directed at causing your kilt to swish too high. I know these last few years haven't been easy for you, and I also know that I haven't told you that I love you often enough. You are the world to me."

* * *

"Where's Fred?" Dora Lupin asked. Her voice was intense and her husband knew that tone. She was a serious Auror intent on a quest.

"By the bar," he said. "They're the deafening and maddening crowd."

"We need to talk to him in private. Someplace where we can be heard," Dora said.

It took some cajoling and a threat, but Fred Weasley left his fan club at the bar and returned to their location.

"Something jogged in my brain tonight. All three of us were saved at the Battle of Hogwarts by most likely the same man. We can assume this as it was the same wand used on us. I want to ask you a question, what do you think Alastor Moody would look like if he had a full beard?"

"Ugly as sin, but I mean that in the nicest possible way," quipped Fred.

"Think about it. A full beard would hide most of his facial scarring. He's older, so it would be heavily graying. And what if… he wasn't wearing that god awful fake eye of his, but perhaps had two matching eyes. What if he wasn't limping as badly as he normally did? Would he look like this?"

She pulled a wispy memory from her mind and placed it on a soup bowl. There was a bit of soupy sheen to her memory, but it was, as close as she could recollect, the man who had shouted 'Constant Vigilance, Nymphadora," at her during the height of the Battle of Hogwarts.

"He might look like that," Remus admitted. "That man looks familiar."

"During the middle of the battle, do remember someone yelling 'Constant Vigilance, Nymphadora'?" Dora asked. "Remus? Do you remember what he looked like? Didn't he look a bit like that? _**Fred**_?"

For once, Fred Weasley wasn't making a joke, instead he was quite solemn.

"That's the wizard who saved my life," admitted Fred. "The full beard threw me, plus the matching eyes. He limped, but not like Alastor normally did."

"We need to tell Kingsley," Remus decided. "However it begs the question. If Moody was alive, why isn't he _**here**_? Why did he come to Hogwarts during the middle of the battle and then disappear again? Perhaps he died at Hogwarts and they never found his body. Would it be fair to rip that old wound open again?"

"We should tell Kingsley," insisted Dora. "His family would need to know that he died a hero. Kingsley is his family, you know that."

"Tell Kingsley tomorrow. Just let him and Minerva have tonight," insisted Remus. As one of the older Order members, he knew that Alastor and Kingsley had a long term coupling, and he experienced firsthand the formerly tension filled treaty of non-aggression between Minerva and Kingsley. "Look at them, let's not interrupt that."

"Agreed. Fred, can you convince your brother to give us his first appointment tomorrow morning?" requested Dora.

"I'll talk to Percy," Fred agreed.

* * *

On his first official day as the Real Minster of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt was a wee bit tired. His wife had shown him the proper way of 'dressing' while in a kilt and while that had been educational and rather… delightful… he hadn't gotten much sleep. Also, Bryce had experienced a series of nightmares and it had been Kingsley's turn. That meant he had cuddled Bryce and reassured him that he was safe until Bryce had fallen asleep.

Sometimes, he truly worried about his children. The fourteen month old Nora had two fathers, yet hadn't really had any for six formative months and the five year old Bryce had lost both his biological parents at an early age. He had latched onto Minerva as he didn't really remember his Mum. Poppy had warned Kingsley it would take time for the two of them to develop a father-son bond. Bryce remembered his father, barely, and Kingsley had copied a few of Bryce's happy memories regarding his dad and saved them. When Bryce was older, he'd be able to relieve those happy moments through the use of a pensieve.

Had raising him been this stressful for his grandparents? Probably, but all Kingsley remembered was his grandparents had constantly reassured him how much they loved him and wanted him.

Therefore, he told his children how much he loved them every chance he had. If that meant, holding and consoling a traumatized Bryce while Bryce cried himself to sleep, Kingsley would do so.

Then today, he had a godawful early meeting with Remus and Dora Lupin and Fred Weasley. Percy had added the meeting and then tentatively canceled the rest of his schedule. Percy's terse note of 'You may want the rest of the day off after you talk to them" was not reassuring in the least.

He was holding his third cuppa of the day when he roughly ordered Remus Lupin to spill it. No blathering, no nattering, just give the issues to him straight. However, he soon regretted his curtness when Remus Lupin told him that the trio believed that Alastor Moody had been the mysterious mage who had saved lives during the Battle of Hogwarts.

"I have to go," Kingsley informed the trio. Yes, they thought he was returning home to Minerva to tell her the new. It was the truth that he was heading back to Hogwarts, but it was to a certain private ward where a man was recovering from a poisonous snake bite. Because if anyone had been involved with Alastor Moody's being rescued from a pack of Death Eaters, it would be Severus Snape, Dumbledore's man to the very end.

"Percy, cancel all my meetings today. Also I need you to clean up my office as I dropped my cuppa. I'll explain later."

That done, he ignored his sputtering secretary who wished to know where he was going, and then Kingsley Disapparated directly into the Hogwarts' infirmary.

"Good morning, Poppy. I just wanted to check on Severus." He didn't explain, he didn't ask if Severus was up to seeing him, he just barged into Severus' ward. "I need everyone to leave the room, now. Not you, Severus."

Severus Snape didn't look him in the eyes; instead he stared at the ceiling.

"I know you're still recovering and you cannot talk properly due to the damage to your throat, but I need to know. Did Alastor Moody save your life at the Battle of Hogwarts?"

Severus Snape said not a word and Kingsley repeated himself.

"If he's alive, I must let Minerva know. You understand _**why**_. Was Alastor the one that saved your live?"

Head nod.

"Where is he?" Kingsley attempted to remain cool and collected, but inwardly, he feared the loss of his family. He wasn't the biological father, he had no standing… If Moody wished custody, Kingsley didn't have a leg, real or otherwise, to stand upon. And… he would step aside so Minerva and Alastor could be together.

Head shake.

"Do you know where he was?"

Nod.

Within moments, Kingsley Shacklebolt was arriving at the Brain and Spinal Centre of Manchester. He had taken care to approximate Muggle clothing to fit in. However no experience in all his years of being an Auror prepared him to be greeted by two Physicians with a hearty, "Hello, Kingsley. How's Alastor doing?"

* * *

Kwasi St. James and Anna Chalmers had been more than helpful, giving him a full run down on what happened to Alastor and listing his injuries. It helped that he was able to Magically produce the various Muggle forms that claimed he was Alastor's next of kin and that he was permitted to talk to Alastor's physicians.

They detailed his spinal injuries, the closed head injury, his memory loss, his pneumonia and the barbaric ways they had treated it. Screwing metal pins into Alastor's head? Removing part of his skull? Drugging him into unconsciousness? Sticking a tube down his throat so he could breathe? Yet, he could tell how they cared for the crusty Alastor, sense how they had hoped that they had done their best for him. Maybe they had, because Alastor never would have survived at St. Mungo's with those injuries. Not with Voldemort in charge of the Ministry.

"There was a Colin who popped in to check on him several times. He also did a walkabout early December and chatted up a shop girl. Gave him a set of Tarot cards for which he had the talent."

Anna added, "He really was quite good with them as he knew things. Like how Kwasi and I are dating. We found him a flat and he moved in. In his spare time, he did some volunteer work here, like helping with our pediatric patients. He took a real shine to them, and they adored him."

"He does a wonderful Father Christmas," inserted Kwasi.

"Alastor?" Kingsley asked.

"Yes."

"_**ALASTOR**_?" repeated Kingsley.

"Yes, we even have a picture. Put a bit of cornstarch in his beard so it was white. We last saw him on … May 3rd? He said his memory had come back and he was returning home. We were really happy for him, because for the longest time, he was severely depressed because nobody was looking for him." Anna's attempt at being non-judgmental was herculean, but Kingsley could still hear her censure.

"We were told he was dead. _**Colin**_ told us that he was dead. Else I would have searched for him. I would have. We still would believe that he was dead, but somebody thought they saw him in Manchester, so I started checking the various hospitals."

Kwasi snapped his fingers, and began rummaging through the papers on his desk. "The shop girl came in one day looking for him. Seems she had come across an item that she thought he'd want. When I told her Alastor had returned home, she left me her card just in case Alastor stopped in. Here it is."

Kingsley chatted with them some more, thanked them for their care of Alastor, and promised, _**promised**_, that he would bring Alastor in for a visit.

His information collected, he decided to visit the lilac-haired shop girl. Spinning a story, he informed Natalie that Alastor was back in the hospital due to his injuries and that he wished to purchase something for which Alastor to pass the time. She went to a closet and began pulling out items. It seemed that they were castoffs from the same source that had contributed the Tarot Cards.

"I saved these for him because he's got the Talent. I could feel it in him and I can feel it in you."

It took longer for him to pay for the items than to use their magical signature to locate Alastor Moody. Uncertain of how to proceed, he had to really think on his next decision. Should he contact Minerva or not? On one hand, he really should, but, both sources had reported Alastor as being more than a bit odd. Perhaps, he should find out what they meant before he got Minerva involved.

* * *

Alastor was sitting in his flat, viewing the Tarot cards.

He kept throwing the Kings of Swords, over and over and over again. He shuffled the cards repeatedly and the King of Sword was the card that responded to every single query. Each time it appeared, the King of Swords' face was becoming more and more distinctive as he came closer and closer to Alastor. He could see The King's gold earring, the stubble on his face, the bags under his eyes. The King of Swords was physically depleted.

He spread all the cards out, and every single stinking one of them was the King of Swords.

There was a polite rap on the door and Alastor Moody roughly ordered Kingsley Shacklebolt to come on in.


	13. Reunion

Kingsley Shacklebolt was nervy as a brand new Auror traineer face to face with Voldemort. Alastor Moody was alive… _alive_… and hiding in a rundown section of Kilkenny. The wood door was heavily Warded, thoroughly done. Though in Kingsley's professional opinion, it was more than a bit sloppy compared to Alastor's artistic norm. Kingsley decided it prudent to ask Alastor to lower his wards. In the past, Alastor's wards had accepted him as part of Alastor, so they hadn't rebounded on him.

But now, with an Alastor Moody who was alive… _alive_… and living in a rundown boarding house in Kilkenny? An Alastor Moody who hadn't come home after the Battle of Hogwarts? Who had experienced significant physical trauma? Who had forgotten most of his life?

"Alastor, will you open the door, please?" Kingsley softly requested. "Your wards are on a hair-trigger. I fear that I might activate them."

"_**You**_ came to see _**me**_, _**you**_ take them _**down**_," was Alastor's terse response.

"Very well, I guess I'm back to being a trainee," Kingsley agreed. He Pulled and he Stretched the delicate bonds that interlaced the wards, breaking the wards apart slowly. Each spell rebounded in a unique way, completely unpredictable compared to Alastor's usual meticulous technique. It was then that Kingsley came to an unhappy realization; Alastor had told him to take down the spells because Alastor didn't know how to negate them. "Bugger me; you're doing this all by instinct?"

When the door was cleared, Kingsley announced that he was incoming. How he hoped that Alastor couldn't hear his heart pounding.

"Alastor, before I come into the room, I can prove that it's me. The real Kingsley," offered the younger mage. "Can you hear me?"

"Entire _**blasted**_ neighborhood can hear you. I'm surprised that that they haven't called the poli."

Well, that sounded like Alastor, at least.

In a soft voice, Kingsley explained, "Your boggart was your father. I'm the only one besides you that ever knew that. Not even Minerva knew that so it's _**really**_ me, Alastor. It's _**Lee**_."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but perhaps… he had hoped that Alastor would meet him at the door.

No. Moody didn't. Instead, the shaggy haired, heavily bearded Alastor was sitting at the kitchen table, head bowed, shoulders slumped. In his large hands, was a cuppa and there was a half eaten breakfast on the table. There were Tarot cards spread on the table, and a book on beginning Charms that was heavily marked in Alastor's neat handwriting. Kingsley saw how Alastor had written out the proper pronunciations for the most basic of spells, like he was a firstie, intent on obtaining an O.

_The Oi is pronounced ɔɪ as in spoiled._

"Water's still hot in the kettle if you wish a cuppa," Alastor offered. His voice was rough as though he hadn't used it a while. "You can make yourself your own cuppa, as I don't remember inviting you for tea and bikkies."

"Kettle?" Kingsley asked. "You're using a _**kettle**_ for tea? I didn't think you knew how to use a stove."

Yes. That was he needed to do. Keep his composure calm, cool, collected. Don't let Alastor know how he feared how his life had been completely torn asunder because Alastor was back and he wasn't acting like Alastor. Alastor never used a tea for kettle, he just snapped his fingers and the water was the proper temperature for a good cuppa. Oh bloody hell, his family? What did this mean to them? How would Minerva take the news that Alastor Moody was in the land of the living?

"Don't have enough control to do it the other way," rumbled Alastor. He took the cards, put them back into neat deck, shuffled them and then put them down. "Might burn down the building."

"Alastor? Will you look at me when you talk to me, _**please**_?" Kingsley requested.

Alastor turned his body in his chair to face Kingsley. He didn't turn his head, didn't turn his neck, no, he pivoted his entire body.

"Neck is spasming today. Can't turn it. Back's bad also. Ran out of medication, so I tried to copy it. I didn't get it quite right. Pain's still there and I'm fuzzy and slow. Least my thoughts aren't racing around and around in my skull."

"Let me take you to a Healer." Yes, that's what Alastor needed. A proper Healer who wouldn't use _**metal screws**_ to put Humpty Dumpty Moody back together again.

"_**No**_." That wasn't just a rumble of thunder; Alastor's refusal was a deafening, disorientating avalanche.

"It's safe _**now**_. Voldemort is _**dead**_. There's so much I need to tell you that I don't even know where to begin." That was certainly an understatement.

"Why don't you tell me about your _**wife**_, Lee? Does _**Minerva**_ know that you're with me?"

Those questions floored Kingsley. How did Alastor Moody know? More importantly, how much did he know?

"Yes, Minerva and I are married." Kingsley softly admitted. "Severus tell you that?"

"Saw you at Hogwarts," explained Alastor. "You looked good together. Even in the middle of that insanity, you two looked really good. I'm truly glad you two hooked up… I am… Just don't tell Minerva you found me, because I don't want her fearing me buggering up a good thing. Say what you have to say, Lee. Then you leave and I'll move on – then we'll never lay eyes on each other again. No worries, I never liked Kilkenny anyway."

Alastor's tone was flat. He wasn't angry, he wasn't argy bargy Alastor, he was just… emotionless. As though, the unquenchable fire which had always defined Alastor to Kingsley, had been doused.

"Alastor, I _**had**_ to marry Minerva."

That admission earned Kingsley a grimace from Alastor. Really, this wasn't how Kingsley wished to handle this important conversation.

"I _**had**_ to marry her because she fell pregnant by the presumed deceased love of her life. Congratulations, you're a father, Alastor."

That caused a reaction, but not the one Kingsley anticipated as Alastor exploded. Alastor stood up quickly, flipped the table and then threw the kettle of hot water at Kingsley. The younger man barely missed being burned by his quick reflexes.

"You're not Lee. You're _**NOT**_! Who are the sodding hell are you? LeStrange? Minerva's _**barren**_. Lee knew that!"

The battle was quick and one-sided as a recuperating Alastor was speedily subdued and restrained. Kingsley gently restrained him in a comfy chair and placed a neck pillow around his neck. For his thanks, a raving Alastor Moody struggled to bite off his fingers, all the while spewing a flood of vitriol that would have made Bellatrix LeStrange blush.

"Enough, Alastor," Kingsley commanded. He Muted Alastor and then shook his head. "I don't wish to restrain you, but I can't let you hurt yourself. Easy, Alastor, _**easy**_. And for once in your life, you're going to stop yammering and listen to me. When you stop screaming, you'll be able to talk again and I'll loosen the restraints. After Barty, I hate restraining you."

With a delicate touch, Kingsley focused on Alastor's neck, felt where it was spasming and concentrated on soothing and calming the muscles. He was slipping back into old habits. On the bad nights, when Alastor's old wounds pained him, Kingsley would massage him while Alastor would be forced to listen. It was a fair trade, as Alastor just listened while Kingsley talked.

"Alastor Moody, you will have to listen to me. I know you went to Minerva for a final goodbye before the battle of Seven Harrys. You two ended up _**horizontal**_. I knew you two had and it bloody hurt so badly, Alastor. Because once again, you had gone to her. When you died… when I thought you had bloody died, I went back to search for your body. And I couldn't find it…"

His composure slipping, Kingsley continued to talk, "And I couldn't find you… I went to Minerva… I had to tell her that you were dead… and I needed to be with you one last time… so I bedded Minerva. When she fell pregnant, I knew that the baby was yours, I _**knew**_ it, but I _**lied**_. I convinced her that you and I… that we both had been careless… I lied… because that baby was part of you and if she believed that was a remote chance that I might be the father, that was the only way she'd let me help her. I took your timeturner and absconded with her to Barbados for a year so she could have the baby."

He needed a moment to settle himself, so he took a deep breath before continuing. "You should have seen her when she was nine months gone, Alastor. God, she quite took my breath away. Originally, I helped her out of obligation, because you weren't there, but… it developed into something."

Alastor was settling down beneath his touch, his breathing slowing. Kingsley continued to massage the older man's neck, and then he moved his hands to Alastor's temples. Carefully, he loosened the restraints on Moody, but ensuring that he could quickly restrain the older man if necessary.

"Your daughter's name is Nora. She is an unholy ginger-haired terror right now as she's teething. I look at her, and I see you in her. Minerva and I… we came to a new understanding in what was a faux marriage,we even took in this orphan named Bryce that we're the process of adopting. His father was a Muggleborn wizard and his mum was a Muggle. We finally figured out that he's five… and… I fear he saw the Death Eaters get his father."

Shoulders were massaged next, as Alastor always had pain when the weather changed, especially the right one. It felt… good… to be touching Alastor once more.

"I adore that little boy and I wish I knew what to do with him. He doesn't talk to me, but he is thick as thieves with Minerva. I try not to smile when he's with Nora; he's very intense about his position of big brother. Everyone tells me that he mourning his father so I should not push him. I should be happy that he is fitting in with Minerva and Nora. It's too soon for Bryce, to accept me, after losing his father. Alastor… I wish he'd laugh. Just the once. He's such a serious boy, Alastor. I'd buy him a roomful of toys, if he would just smile."

He was exhausted, so his hands had stilled. To Lee's surprise, Alastor brushed his lips against Kingsley's finger. The older man then positioned himself so his head was resting on Kingsley's hand. The two of them stayed like that for a spell, before Alastor spoke.

"You said your peace, now you go, Lee. Go back to your family and you forget you ever saw me here. You just focus on being the best father you can. Bryce will need you to be loving and patient with him while he's healing. He'll come around; I know he will, because it's impossible not to be charmed by you. As for him being a mite serious, your grandmum Sara told me that is how you were. You turned out fine – you just can't tell a joke to save your life."

Alastor's voice was soft while Kingsley's was most assuredly not. No, his tone was hard and dangerous.

"The only way I'm leaving here, Alastor, is if _**you**_ are coming with _**me**_."

"No, Lee. I show up, very much not dead, I'll just bugger up everything. You and Minerva are mates, finally. I wanted you two to be friendly, but I kept stirring things up between you because I couldn't keep it in my pants. You're _**happy**_, Kingsley. I am not taking that from you. You two are happy in your marriage, I'm not destroying that. You've got a family, Kingsley. You always wished for that. You could never have that with me."

"You have a point there, Alastor. In fact, you have several points," Kingsley admitted. "You kept bouncing between Minerva and me, causing no end of pain to all of us. All three of us."

Alastor closed both eyes and softly agreed.

"However, that will be nothing compared to the heartache you will cause Nora when she realized that her father didn't want anything to do with her. Taking after your father, Alastor?" Kingsley said. "He'd be proud that you're carrying on the Moody tradition."

It was a low blow, a direct kick to the 'nads. Alastor didn't explode, didn't give Kingsley the what for, no, he just nodded his head.

"It's better for her, really. I've got holes in my memory, but I remember, I _**remember**_, how everyone thought I was a raving nutter because of my paranoia. I'll suffocate her, Lee, with those racing thoughts in my head. The thoughts that won't keep quiet, that won't shut up. I'll turn her into a raving nutter like me because those thoughts are coming back. I can't get the meds right, the ones that kept my obsessions, those compulsions under control. You're her only hope for growing up _**normal**_. That she will have a father that she can respect and admire."

"When you leave, you'll put the wards back on the door, won't you? I can't get them neat. I keep redoing them over and over… I can't get them right. If anyone follows you here, knows you're here, I need a few minutes so I can disappear again."

"Alastor, I spoke with Kwasi and Anna. They think you're experiencing spell-shock and they had given you some Muggle medication to help. I understand why you feel that meeting your daughter will cause a cauldron of boiling trouble, it will, but Alastor… don't you even want to see what she looks like? We can go back to those Healers, get more medication for you, and find someone to duplicate it for you."

* * *

Kingsley's temper was fraying. He wasn't sure how he felt about Alastor being alive. Overjoyed but bloody scared as he was about to lose everything. Yes, once Alastor saw his daughter, there was no way in hell Kingsley would stand between them. Yet, how it would hurt knowing that Moody and Minerva were together again.

"No, I do _**not**_. A clean break is the best type."

"Unfortunately, I disagree. Here a picture of the four of us. I should warn you that I'm wearing your old kilt, as I needed something suitable to wear."

Alastor barked a laugh. "Suitable? They give you a medal, Lee? No, let me guess, you're Minister of Magic now."

"No and yes," was Kingsley's retort. "I thought giving myself a medal stunk of hubris."

"Bugger me. You're Minister? They recall Rufus the rapscallion?" Alastor growled. "He must be madder than a witch with piles riding a splintery broom."

"Alastor… I'm sorry. Rufus is dead." Best not to beat around the bush, nor quibble. Alastor and Rufus had been polar opposites in personalities, but had been trainees together.

"Bloody hell," whispered Alastor. "What about that pink haired girl, Dora and her husband? That Weasley boy? Who else died?"

"Dora, Remus and Fred are all alive, thanks to you. However there are too many to name who died, but here." Kingsley forced the picture of his happy family into Alastor's unresisting hands. "Alastor, Minerva is holding Nora, who decided that she wished to wear my kufi. I'm holding Bryce as he was overwhelmed by the noise. And the House Elf is Nessie, she is very helpful. I don't know if you can see it, but Minerva is wearing the thorn bracelet with roses. I found that and your wedding ring in the waistcoat pocket."

Alastor was not saying a word; instead his head was bowed, his long shaggy hair hiding his features. However, his hands were shaking.

"She's wearing the wedding ring that you would have given her. Plus, I'm still wearing both our rings. Now, let me put everything back to rights," Kingsley offered. "I made the mess. Let me fix it. You can have a moment or three in peace, Alastor."

* * *

He used his hands to physically clean the mess he had created. If Alastor was feeling that insecure with regards to his magic, Kingsley wasn't keen to remind him of how much he had lost. And what he _**would**_ regain. However, Kingsley's desires just went so far, as he decided it best to utilize his magic to get the water to a proper temperature for two cuppas. Plus he didn't wish to pick up a full Tarot deck.

Alastor's brekkie was in shambles, plus Kingsley hadn't eaten. He foraged through the empty cabinets where there was nothing. _**Nothing**_. Nothing in the icebox except for a small container of leftovers that were distinctly unappetizing. All in all, a very depressing and quite bare kitchen, except for the fact that there was a small clock with two photos standing guard. There was one of _**him**_, wherever did Moody get that picture? He was so young! And there was a small picture of a very young Alastor with Minerva.

He made a bit of noise when he re-entered the room, but Alastor didn't hear him. No, Alastor was weeping, silently, his broad shoulders shaking. In the dozen or so years that Kingsley had known Alastor, he had witnessed Alastor weeping once; when his brother Henry had passed with the estrangement between the two men still intact.

"What's bothering you?" Kingsley asked. He kept his tone soft and affectionate.

"That child is a living reminder that I betrayed you," Alastor finally confessed. "That child represents all the promises I made to you and Minerva that I never kept. The vows that I shattered."

"That child is _**Nora**_, a rather delightful little minx that combines the very best of you and Minerva. I never see unfaithfulness when I look at her. She was created in love, Alastor. You and Minerva never stopped loving each other."

Alastor stood then, and faced Kingsley. His face hardened and his shoulders were straight, as though he was heading out to do battle with Voldemort himself.

Taking a long contemptuous glance at Kingsley, he shook his head. "You're pathetic. Grow a set, Kingsley. _**Created in love**_? What a pile of shite! Always content to be second best in my life. Didn't it stick in your craw? That I always went back to her? That you _**weren't**_ man enough for me? Didn't you wonder how you compared in bed with her? Well, you were lacking. I always thought of her when we were in bed. That's why I always went back to her."

Kingsley's temper flared and Alastor found himself against a wall, with Kingsley's wand against his jugular.

"Does she do that little thing with her tongue? You know… the lapping?" Alastor asked. He put a little lewd twist in his tone, which caused Kingsley to see red. "Why don't you go home, ask her to…" Alastor was then quite crude about a rather private matter.

Kingsley Shacklebolt exploded. If Alastor wished to be rude and disparaging, well, it was time for Kingsley to respond in kind. And he knew exactly how to hurt Alastor.

"Well, she's assured me how much better I am in bed than you were. Minerva's bloody delighted that I have stamina, I have _**skill**_ and I could keep going all night long. The only thing you ever did for her was give her Nora. You _**couldn't**_ bloody commit. She got tired of it, Alastor. Got knackered with dealing with your insecurities and handholding through your emotional traumas. Most people move on from their childhood traumas, no, you just wallowed in your suffering, enjoying the feel of flagellating yourself because your daddy was a drunk and he didn't like you."

Alastor flinched and Kingsley continued, giving his anger free rein. The grief, the anger that he had been suppressing since Albus Dumbledore's death boiled over and he wished to _**hurt**_ Alastor.

"She let you bed her, not out of any enjoyment of your technique, but out of sense of Christian kindness, doing her bit to help the crippled. You've always been nothing more than a charity case to her. And yes, she's compared your technique to mine, and has decided yours lacked originality. Bit of a prude, aren't you, Alastor? Is missionary truly the only position you've mastered?"

The younger man took a deep breath, counted from ninety seven backwards. He stared at Alastor, saw the thinly veiled pain in Alastor's good eye and realized what had just occurred. Alastor was pushing him away, so Kingsley would get royally enraged, declare Alastor a lost cause and then return back to his family. Guilt-free.

"You're the Emperor of Idiots, if you believe that I can't see through you," Kingsley gently informed Alastor. "You're too much of a gentleman to carnally compare Minerva and me. The only complaint Minerva and I have ever voiced about you – was your inability to ever confide in us. That you had barriers that we could never get through. Why do you always push us away, Alastor?"

Alastor was mute, and Kingsley put his wand back in his pocket.

"Alastor, I'm very sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. My anger got the better of me and I wished to wound you. I didn't realize what you were doing until I said those horrible, horrible things. Forgive me?" Kingsley softly pleaded.

"No worries. You spoke the truth, Lee. Minerva felt pity for me as I was friendless; the rest of my House mates knew how my father felt so I was wizard non-grata. My father was the go-to-man for wizards charged with questionable offenses, and he made no bones about how he felt about me, how he was planning on disowning me. I wasn't a real man in his eyes, because I wouldn't drink, wouldn't whore and wouldn't lie. My brother was a bloody alcoholic before he finished Hogwarts, thanks to my father. My father believed that I was queer, that's why he took me to the whores to make a man out of me."

"And I really did try with you. I did, and I knew it wasn't satisfactory for you. I had hoped that maybe… quantity would make up for the fact… it wasn't first-rate." That painful confession was quite low.

"Alastor… Alastor… I didn't mean anything that I just said," Kingsley insisted. "I was angry about what you said about us."

"I know you got tired of the same positions but sometimes, when we did something different, my leg… it got to aching. That one thing we tried, I know you thoroughly enjoyed it, but the next day, my leg felt like it did right after the Healers amputated it. Between the leg and my back, I was in bloody agony, Kingsley. When you wanted to do it again, I refused because I just couldn't. I _**couldn't**_. You thought I was being a bit of a prude, but I _**couldn't**_. I wanted to, because you really enjoyed it... I really did."

"You never told me," protested Kingsley. "Why didn't you tell me that what I suggested hurt you? I thought you'd enjoy it. It was supposed to be enjoyable for _**both**_ of us."

"It was new and fragile between us. I knew you'd leave if you realized how damaged I was, and I fancied you. It was pleasant to be with someone, to have someone living with me."

"You're coming home with me, Alastor. The three of us will figure out what to do next, but you must meet your daughter, Alastor. You must be introduced to Bryce, too. He could certainly do with another uncle."

"Lee… I'm _**broken**_." Alastor admitted that easily, though Kingsley knew how much it hurt the proud Alastor to confess his failing.

"You're not broken. You're healing," insisted Kingsley.

"I am missing chunks of my memory, and my magic is erratic. I don't think I'm _**safe**_," protested a somber Alastor. "Think of the children."

"Alastor, you've obviously forgotten that you were never _**safe**_. You were a walking, talking disaster looking for a place to implode. Everyone battened down the hatches when you showed your face. Even Augusta Longbottom's stuffed vulture fears you."

"Idle flatter," retorted Alastor. "Lee. Seriously, I'm giving you the chance… Go back to your life. Forget you ever saw me. Don't let me turn your life arse over tit because I didn't stay dead."

"No, you're going to Hogwarts because Minerva's there. You two need to hash this out."

* * *

Minerva McGonagall sat in her sitting room, pondering Kingsley's strange message. It was a matter of some urgency, and he needed to speak with her in her quarters at Hogwarts. In private. And Kingsley had requested that the children were to be tucked away with one of their Hogwarts' aunties and uncles.

She rather doubted that Kingsley was feeling frisky, but really, it was too good an opportunity to waste, so she slipped into a long dressing gown. It was long sleeved and there was a bright green tie that perhaps her husband might wish to undo. If he was in the mood.

Kingsley apparated into the room with a rather noisy crack.

"Really, Kingsley, that was rather sloppy," she teased. Her quips about splinching were left unspoken as she realized that the normally unruffable Kingsley was quite undone.

"What's bothering you?" she asked.

"Minerva, I need you to sit down. It's very important. I don't wish you to faint."

"I'm not in the habit of swooning, Kingsley," Minerva snapped. Really, did Kingsley think she was Cissy Malfoy?

Kingsley took her hands and squeezed them. "It's Alastor."

"You found his body?" interrupted Minerva. "Please tell me you did, so we can bring him home and give him a proper burial."

"He's alive, Minerva. He's _**alive**_."

And she wasn't sure how Kingsley was feeling about that news.

"What?" a disbelieving Minerva exclaimed. "He's _**alive**_? Was he on a jolly holiday for the last year?"

"No, no. He was injured very badly during the battle of Seven Harrys. Severus…" Kingsley began.

"Where is he? Where is Alastor? I'm assuming that you brought him with you. That's why you were so noisy? Reveal yourself, Alastor Moody." Her tone was ringing as she peered through the room. "_Finite Incantatem. _When I'm done with you, Alastor Moody, I will visit Severus and give him a piece of my mind_."_

A shaggy haired, heavily beard man appeared. It _**was**_ Alastor, a thinner, wearier Alastor, and he was clutching two brightly wrapped packages. The packages were held in front of him, as though they were shields to protect him from the righteous wrath of one Minerva McGonagall.

"So, you arise from the dead, bearing pressies? Do you think I'll forgive you, Alastor Moody?" protested Minerva.

"No, one is for Nora and the other is for Bryce. Lee thought I should have something for them when I meet them."


	14. Chapter 14

"You're alive," Minerva said. "You're alive. Where have you been, Alastor?"

Alastor flinched as he heard what she was really said. _You're alive. You're alive. Where have you been, Alastor? Do you really think a few presents will make up for not being there when your daughter was born?_

They weren't questions. No - it was a statement and condemnation of the accused. The court had rightfully decided upon his guilt and had sentenced him.

The older man opened his mouth, and then quickly shut it. The presents were still proffered to Minerva. Yet, they were no longer gifts; they were plaintive requests for absolution. He took a step towards her, and Minerva… _**Minerva**_… took two steps back.

Minerva was terrified of him, of what he represented. That Alastor Moody, newly risen from the dead, was about to turn her entire life arse over tea kettle.

"Where have you _**been**_? Why are you standing like _**that**_?" Minerva paused and then she exhaled, as though trying to calm herself. In a softer tone, Minerva continued. "Kingsley, you know where the fire whiskey is. Please get it and three glasses. We all need some right now. Alastor, I _**shouldn't**_ have said that to you, not in that way. I'm very sorry, Alastor. I want you to believe me."

That earned a physical tremor from Alastor. The presents were dropped and Alastor began muttering that he should leave.

"Alastor, it's either a finger's worth or a calming draught." Minerva's voice was extremely soothing, much like she was consoling a firstie after a nightmare.

"Can't…" protested Alastor. "I can't start _**that**_…I won't stop…"

"Let me get Poppy. She'll have something you can take to ease your anxiety."

"I told him to… leave me… I didn't want to come… here…" stuttered Alastor. "Better off dead."

"There will be none of that rubbish, Alastor," Minerva said. She took a quick gulp of whiskey and then grabbed Kingsley's class which she quickly downed. In a very soft tone, she spoke to Kingsley. "I'm sorry. You'll have to pour yourself another drink. Stay with him, don't let him go _**anywhere**_. Calm him down, because when he gets like this, where he's stuttering; he's in a right proper state. "

With a few succinct words, Minerva had severed his bollocks and handed them to him.

"_You believe presents might make up for you not being here when we needed you?"_

She had offered him a drink of poison, a pointed barb on how well he had handled her miscarriage and the dissolution of their engagement. Alastor had accepted that those misfortunate to love him had soon regretted it. Yet, the completeness of their animosity, the righteous of their wrath cored him. Alastor Moody was a hollow, shattered man.

He should have died. He focused on that thought to the exclusion of everything else. Even when Kingsley put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, Alastor pondered on how much happier everyone would be if he were dead. Minerva's daughter would have grown up believing that he was a hero, Minerva wouldn't know that he had abandoned her… Kingley wouldn't have to deal with him….

"Minerva didn't mean it the way you took it." Kingsley's voice was soft and soothing. Like bloody hell, she hadn't. Minerva had meant every single word. She knew how to hurt him, how a few scornful words from her would cause him to retreat back into himself.

"Nora and Bryce aren't here because we thought it would be overwhelming for you to meet them. I wasn't sure, but when you consider how well I've already mucked up your homecoming… Alastor, please talk to me."

"Everything's… brill…" Alastor lied. "Just… knackered."

"Just relax, Alastor," whispered Kingsley. "You're so tense."

Kingsley was rubbing Alastor's back and it felt good, so _**good**_ to be touched. Alastor had always believed that that when Lazarus showed up again, very much not dead, Mary and Martha had given their brother a big hug. The biblical story was full of rejoicing, or so Alastor had naively thought. Now Alastor pitied the poor bastard. Especially when Lazarus had realized that his best mate was now wearing Lazarus' robes and had married Lazarus' old flame.

Alastor hadn't even rated a quick embrace from Kingsley.

Well, truth demanded that Alastor admit that he _**had**_ thrown the kettle full of hot water at him. And he couldn't begrudge Kingsley wearing his wedding kilt. Alastor couldn't fit it, not anymore, and it had been purchased to be worn.

And he had purchased the wedding ring for Minerva to wear, however Alastor had always pictured him being the lucky man to place it on her finger.

"Alastor, it's Poppy Pomfrey. I want you to drink this. It will help relax you."

Hoping it was poison, Alastor drank the proffered vial.

"We need to take him to the infirmary," Poppy insisted. The matron's tone brooked no disagreement.

"Alastor is staying with his family," was Kingsley's directive. "He's staying with us."

"Right now, Alastor has a great deal to process. It might be easier for him, if he's someplace where it's quiet. Nora's teething right now, so she's a wee cranky. And Bryce is a little boy, little boys make noise."

Poppy was the only reasonable one in the room, Alastor firmly believed.

"Alastor desires to meet Nora and Bryce." That was Minerva's proclamation to which Alastor heartily disagreed. "And Bryce is a very quiet boy. Too quiet, as you often remind me."

It would be easier for everyone, if he never laid eyes on his daughter. Why he the only one that understood that basic truth? He'd destroy her.

"This is the safest place for Alastor. This is heavily warded and there are Aurors guarding it twenty four – seven." Kingsley explained.

"I'm not hearing Alastor in this. I'm just hearing you two. Your wishes, your desires. Alastor do you wish to meet your daughter?" Poppy requested.

He was firm in his desire. He would say 'No' and prevent heartache to everyone. He'd be strong and he opened his mouth to refuse.

"Yes," he whispered. Oh damn him to hell. Why did he have to hurt those that he loved?

Kingsley squeezed Alastor's shoulder in approval, but Alastor was adrift in a sea of self-condemnation.

* * *

Alastor was left with Minerva while Kingsley wrangled up the kids. He didn't know what to say, but the silence was suffocating him.

"You and Kingsley trying for your own now?" He asked. It seemed a proper inquiry, as he remembered newly married Aurors being asked that question.

Minerva nearly swallowed her teeth and Alastor realized that, like always, he had said the wrong thing. Like he was implying that Nora wasn't Kingsley's child in soul and spirit.

"I think a little Kingsley-Minerva mix would be…" Alastor paused and put his hand over his mouth.

How could he explain what he meant to Minerva? That a child from the two of them…the only two people in the world that he had ever truly loved… would be a wonderfully delightful combination. Not that Alastor had not loved his mother. However, he possessed only a faded memory or three of her due to his injuries.

Minerva inhaled and then slowly exhaled. "We haven't really discussed that. I mean, Nora was a complete surprise. I was told that I would never fall pregnant, let alone, carry the child to term."

"Should look into it," was Alastor's response. "I know Kingsley always wanted..."

"Alastor, I am seventy two years old and I was bedbound when I carried Nora. For nigh near eight months, I was stuck in bed. I know that there have been plenty of older witches who have born children, but it wasn't an easy experience for me."

To say he was dismayed would be an understatement. He had abandoned her… twice over. Not just when she had fallen pregnant, but when she had been ailing .

"He didn't tell me," whispered Alastor. "Kingsley didn't tell me. Why didn't he tell me?"

"Alastor, why won't you look at me?" Minerva asked.

"I can't turn my neck," explained Alastor. "Not all the way."

"What happened, Alastor? We thought you were dead. We _**believed**_ you were dead," Minerva asked.

"I fell… and Severus found me. I begged him to kill me," began Alastor.

"Alastor!" Minerva protested.

"I was dying and I didn't wish them to get me," Alastor paused. "Severus found me… I was quite… I couldn't… I didn't… I… I… There are holes in my memories."

"How much do you remember?" Minerva asked.

"I remember that I couldn't keep it in my pants, causing no end of pain for both of you. You two should have teamed together and gelded me with hot iron."

Minerva smiled slightly and nodded her head in exasperated remembrance, "Kingsley and I had some difficulties in the past; we've ironed them out."

"Look good together," offered Alastor. "I'm… glad."

Truly, he was. How could he not be delighted? That they had found happiness together? He went all internal even while Minerva nattered at him. Truly he was a selfish bastard, as he was bleeding to death from the pain. They were a perfect couple, evenly matched and there were even children to complete the absolute rightness of it all.

It couldn't be _**worse**_. There was no possible way it could ever be _**worse**_.

Except that his daughter, that he desperately loved, sight unseen, screamed and wailed at the horrific sight of his scarred visage. And the little boy, Bryce, hid behind Kingsley because he was terrified of the monster.

"She's teething, Alastor," Kingsley explained to him for what had to be the ninety ninth time. "Her teeth are coming through her gums, so it hurts."

"Yes," a remote Alastor agreed. "She's teething. That's why she screamed."

"And Bryce was anxious about meeting you. He wasn't afraid of you, he's just very shy with new people," Kingsley repeated.

Dutifully, Alastor nodded his head. Well, as much as he could.

"I'm knackered, Lee. I need to rest," Alastor announced. "Got a place for a crip to lie down for a spell?"

"Alastor…" Kingsley tiredly protested as he showed Alastor to a small guest bedroom. "Don't… you know I hate that term."

"I am what I am." Alastor was quite terse as really there was no disputing that simple truth.

"I'm not in the mood to argue with you, Alastor. Not after you're Lazarus, raised from the dead." Kingsley squeezed Alastor's shoulders tightly. "I am so _**glad**_ that you're alive. I am. Tomorrow, it will be better."

Alastor managed a grimace of a smile. Yes. It would be much better for all as Alastor was planning on disappearing. For good this time. He sat on the edge of the bed and made as though he was about to lie down.

"Do you need any help?" Kingsley asked. Alastor gave him a rather baleful look to which the younger man raised his hands in defense. "Just asking."

A concerned Minerva was swaying on her feet, rocking a fretful Nora to sleep.

"Well, that went really well," she drolly informed her husband. "How is he?"

"Barely talking. Pushing me away. Bryce?"a concerned Kingsley asked.

"Better, I promised to read him two stories tonight," explained Minerva. She fondly smiled as Bryce would do almost anything to have a chance to snuggle combined with a bedtime story or three.

"I wish he'd let me read to him. I _**can**_ read, you know." Kingsley struggled to keep his tone composed. He failed miserably as Bryce's aloofness disturbed him greatly.

Minerva leaned toward Kingsley and kissed him. "He misses his father and doesn't wish to betray him. It will come in time."

"I know. Sometimes…" Kingsley sighed. "I don't know what to do with Bryce."

"Stop trying so hard with him," advised Minerva. "Be yourself, Kingsley. Loving and patient and he'll come around. Remember, he sought you out at the orphanage."

"And he's clung to you ever since," Kingsley said. In a soft tone, he explained further. "I'm feeling like the odd man out."

Minerva narrowed her eyes and looked at her husband. "I'm married to _**you**_. I'm here with _**you**_. I'm not leaping into Alastor's bed."

"He is Nora's Da," Kingsley needlessly reminded.

"He's ONE of Nora's fathers," retorted Minerva. She stared at Kingsley and then nodded her head in tired understanding. "That is what is bothering you. Now that Alastor's back, you fear that will lose everything…. Every _**one**_."

"Yes," was all Kingsley would admit.

"Well, put yourself into my shoes. Alastor's back. Don't you think I'm worried? That I'll end up all alone, while you two get back together?" Minerva was bloody proud she kept her composure when she said that.

"You won't end up alone," protested a somber Kingsley. "You are the love of Alastor's life. I was always…"

"The man that gave him _**peace**_. Don't _**dare**_ belittle the relationship you had with him and believe that you were second best. You forget, Minister Kingsley, I was on the outside, looking in, for the last decade. You made him _**happy**_, Kingsley. Alastor and I, we were happy for a very short time, and then we combusted. Let me ask Nessie to watch the children, so you and I can have some… private time."

Private time was their secret code for intimacy.

"I just want you to hold me," Minerva requested. "We need to talk, Kingsley."

"That we do," admitted her husband.

* * *

Bryce was heading towards the kitchen to beg for a ginger bikkie from Mum Minerva when he heard Lee say in a very quiet voice, "I know. Sometimes… I don't know what to do with Bryce."

"Stop trying…" Mum Minerva said. There might have been more, but Bryce didn't hear.

He was a big boy, so he _**wouldn't**_ scrike like he was a baby… like Nora. He didn't know why Lee didn't like him because he was a good boy. Lee was very impotent, that's what Auntie Nessie told him. Lee was the Mister of Magic, and very busy. Since Lee was impotent, Bryce tried not to bother him. He would have liked Lee to read to him, like his Daddy had. The other misters were impotent too, far more than Bryce was, so they needed to talk to Lee.

Bryce decided that he would run away. He'd find his Papa…. He wasn't _**dead**_. Those mean boys had _**lied**_. He'd miss Mum Minerva and his baby sister Nora and Auntie Nessie… and yes, he'd miss Lee.

That done, he decided to take his stuffed dragon and the book Papa gave him. He also took all the money he had, two yellow coins and a red one. Hopefully, it should be enough to live on until he was old enough to find a proper job.

He waited until Auntie Nessie was busy with Nora and made his escape. However, the strange man that Lee had brought home also met him at the door. The man looked him up and down, then nodded his head.

"You running away, too?" The man growled.

"_**No,**_" Bryce lied.

"Well, if you were running away, I thought we could go together. Have each others' back," the old man said.

Bryce seriously thought about it, and then nodded his head. Really, it might be better to be out on the world with an adult. Even if the adult was the strange man that Lee had brought in, the one who had made Mum Minerva cry.

"Gingrotts, then Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour," the man informed his young comrade in arms. "Since we're both running away, I think ice cream is appropriate for dinner. No nasty sprouts for us, boyo. Ice cream and perhaps a stop at Honeydukes."

* * *

Alastor held out his hand and the little boy took hold of it. Moody struggled for a bit, thought he remembered the spell that would leave a note for Kingsley and Minerva advising them that he was taking the boy out for some ice cream. Had to figure out why the little boy was deciding he needed to run away.

The spell cast, the two mismatched souls left Hogwarts. Really, those Aurors that were guarding Lee were a bunch of slackers as Alastor easily avoided them.

She and Kingsley had snuggled for only a short time. Then, she found herself divested of her clothes while Kingsley's hands wandered. He was intense and sweetly affectionate. In the afterglow, Minerva was not blissfully sated, instead she was royally irate.

"That wasn't making love, Kingsley. That was saying _**goodbye**_," she growled.

Kingsley was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall.

"I'm stepping aside," he softly explained. "Alastor needs you right now. I think he and Bryce will get along quite well. I'll file for divorce and I'll give you support for both children."

"Lee," Minerva protested. "Don't be a bloody arse. I love you for your nobility and your decency, but you're being a complete and utter stupid arse right now."

She would have said more but that was when a hysterical Nessie interrupted them, sobbing that both young Master Bryce and Auror Moody Sir had done a bunk.

* * *

The two men were sitting in Florean's, having a man to man chinwag. They were joined by Bryce's dragon who was sitting on a chair between them. Between the three of them, man, boy and stuffed dragon, they were attempting to conquer a Florean's Flambé, a literal mountain of ice cream topped by a colorful sparkler that changed colors.

Some careful prompting by Alastor had revealed that Bryce was quite upset about something Lee had said.

"I'm a _**good**_ boy," the little boy insisted to Alastor. That was a recurring comment from Bryce.

"Not denying that," Alastor easily agreed.

Then the story got a little convoluted, and Alastor wasn't sure why he didn't understand the story. Was it because he was a bit of a nutter, or that he just didn't understand everything Bryce was telling him?

"Lee is _**impotent**_?" Alastor repeated. That was certainly news to Alastor, but why would Lee tell a soon to be five year old boy _**that**_? Unless Lee was in his cups, and he never drank to excess.

"He's the mister of magic. Auntie Nessie says Lee is very impotent."

"Important," Alastor said. "He's very _**important**_."

The little boy who was smeared with syrup from the Flambe just stared at him, not hearing the small difference in the two similar words. Alastor decided that he would explain the difference to Bryce when he was older.

**_Much_** older.

That thought made him realize that he already changed his decision about running away. He was sticking around as Lee and Minerva needed all the backup they could obtain. Between Bryce and Nora, they'd never have a chance as they were outwanded.

"Bryce, we need to go back home," Alastor informed his fellow runaway. "Minerva will be quite upset and Nora needs you. As her big brother, you have to stick around and keep her out of trouble. And I know Lee will be quite sad if you run away. Do you want to make Minerva, Nora and Lee cry?"

Bryce shook his head.

"Then you and I need to go home before they noticed we're gone. We'll keep this between us. Our little secret."

That seemed like a wonderful idea, except at that very moment, Kingsley and Minerva Apparated into the middle of Florean's. Kingsley's appearance was similar to an Avenging Angel as he swept the little boy into his arms and hugged him tightly.


	15. Chapter 15

Kingsley Shacklebolt lost his composure when he witnessed Bryce, Bryce's stuffed dragon and Alastor sharing a mountain of ice cream at Florean's. He had sworn a solemn oath to Minerva that he would 'behave' and he hadn't. His fine vows had lasted nary a moment. He had swept in and he had hugged Bryce, so overjoyed in his relief that Bryce was with Alastor, that he didn't mind getting his robes smeared with ice cream. For a wonder, the little boy hugged him back.

"I left a note," Kingsley overheard a somber Alastor explaining to Minerva. "I explained how Bryce and I needed a chinwag."

"Alastor, there was a note but it just said 'Took Bryce' so we feared that perhaps someone had abducted him. The note wasn't in your handwriting."

"What do we have here?" said a familiar voice. "The Minister's happy little family torn apart by fears of kidnapping by a trusted guard."

The familiar voice belonged to a woman with blonde curly hair who wore rhinestone studded glasses. Such femininity clashed greatly with a jaw that easily matched Vincent Crabbe, Senior.

It was Rita.

_**Rita Skeeter.**_

Instinctively, Kingsley hid Bryce's face with his arm as he and Minerva struggled to protect their children's privacy as much as possible. He knew if Rita was there, that meant Bozo, her trusted photographer, was somewhere near. So far the Daily Prophet had been unsuccessful in their endeavors to snap a piccie of the children, and Kingsley vowed that they'd continue to remain unsuccessful thanks to their quick reflexes and a few products from Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

"I know you…." a disbelieving Rita drawled as she stared at Alastor. "I wasn't sure, but that scar on your face. You're _**dead**_, though."

"Do I look dead," rumbled Alastor.

Rita opened her mouth and then closed it.

"Well? Do I _**look**_ dead?" Alastor asked. "Are you seeing the dead?"

"Who better to guard the Minister's children than someone believed dead?" Minerva questioned. "The five of us were getting together for ice cream, however I was delayed. We didn't wish to disappoint Bryce, so he went on ahead with his uncle."

"Uncle?" Rita repeated. "Uncle _**Alastor**_? And you were nattering about a note."

"We were supposed to meet at Gladrags Wizardwear originally." Minerva then brightly smiled before Rita shook her head in confusion.

"Did you say something?" A perplexed Rita asked. "Minister Kingsley; it is so nice to delightful you and your wife here. You don't need to hide your son however. I don't eat children."

Rita staggered away, bounced herself against the door frame before exiting the room. Minerva made a quick, cutting gesture with one hand, making their conversation private for just the four of them. Well five, if one included Bryce's stuffed dragon who was intently watching the raree show.

"Alastor," Minerva growled. "Did you just Obliviate her?"

"No," protested Alastor. He then stared at the floor, appearing like a very large, extremely abashed, bearded firstie. At Minerva's snort of disbelief, he finally explained, "I Discombulated her."

"Your spells are _**sloppy**_. You could have done permanent brain damage," snapped Minerva. "We need to get you into Remedial Spellcasting as soon as we're done with the ice cream. Now, gentleman, we will be having a pleasant family outing because too many people have seen the four of us here. Afterwards, we will discuss your punishment. Both of _**you**_ doing a runner?"

"Laddie, looks like we're getting sent to our rooms without supper." Alastor made a feeble attempt at a quip and Minerva shook her head.

"Don't make a joke of it, Alastor."

* * *

Naturally, Kingsley had a crisis that required his immediate attention so that left Minerva to handle the miscreants.

"I am quite vexed with you both. Do you wish to say anything in your defence?" Minerva asked. Her arms were crossed and she was wearing her patented McGongall glare of stern disapproval.

"Bryce, tell her what you told me," Alastor suggested.

The little boy looked up at Alastor, plainly hoping that since Alastor was an adult, that he'd protect him. In turn, Alastor gave him an encouraging nod.

"Tell her," Alastor prompted.

"Why did you run away, Bryce?" Minerva gently encouraged.

"I'm a _**good**_ boy," insisted a tearful Bryce. He rubbed one eye with his fist and nodded his head.

"Normally, you are the best little boy ever, but _**tonight**_." Minerva shook her head. "Why did you run away?"

"Lee hates me," the little boy whispered. "He _**said**_ it. He doesn't want anything to do with me."

To say Minerva was gobsmacked was an understatement. She sat down on the settee and then leaned toward her son. With a skillful touch, she encouraged Bryce until she got the entire sordid story of Bryce misunderstanding what he heard. By then, Bryce was uncontrollably sobbing and she was cuddling him.

"Bryce, I have never lied to you. Believe me when I tell you that Lee loves you so much," Minerva assured the solemn soul. "You hurt him when he thought you were gone. You made him cry, Bryce. You _**really**_ hurt Lee. He does want to spend time with you."

"Auntie Nessie says Lee is impotent." Bryce explained. That comment earned him a very perplexed looking Minerva.

Naturally, she glared at Alastor, because somehow_** he**_ was involved.

"Important," Alastor quickly inserted. "Bryce believes that Lee is too _**important**_ to have time for him."

"Nothing can be further from the truth, Bryce. Tomorrow, you and Lee will spend some time together. However, because you ran away, I _**must**_ punish you. You will get your stuffed dragon back tomorrow from Lee. You will also have to go to your room where Auntie Nessie will help you get ready for bed. And Bryce, there will be no story tonight."

"In this family, this family, the way we do things is...we are allowed to disagree, we are allowed to be unhappy. We are not allowed to do a runner. We are responsible grownups." Minerva again glared at Alastor as the older man heard her unspoken, "Well , MOST of us are responsible grownups" that was directed towards him. "And as a responsible adult, we will not run from the things that bother us. We will not hide from our differences. We are a _**family**_ and that means we stay _together_. We need each other. Besides, if either of you try that again it will make Kingsley cry and I will be all the more unhappy when I come find you. Because, I will always come find you."

The teary-eyed offender was sent off to his room and then Minerva turned to face Alastor.

"I don't need any help getting into my jimjams," Alastor feebly offered.

"_**Don't**_," warned Minerva. "No flippant comments from you, Alastor Moody. I have enough problems right now. It's obvious Bryce needs to be in counseling regarding his father's death."

"You need to take care with what you tell Kingsley." For a wonder, Alastor was perfectly serious. "The two of them are a lot alike, and that's part of the problem. You know that Kingsley saw his parents die."

That tidbit stopped Minerva cold.

"What?" Minerva not so wittily asked.

"His parents were murdered in front of him. Robbery gone wrong. Witnessed it all as he was hiding when it happened. Mum told him to hide and he saw it all."

"He never told me," protested Minerva.

"I was on the committee that reviewed his application to become an Auror. Kingsley knew that I was aware of what happened to his parents, but he rarely spoke about it."

"You didn't talk to him about it?" Men! She was doomed! Surrounded by men, none of which talked about their feelings!

"Minerva, we're both men. Talking isn't what we do," Alastor informed her.

"No, love making was your solution to any emotional traumas," Minerva stated. "So, have you and Kingsley…"

She made an obscene gesture.

"N-N-N-OOOO!" Alastor sputtered. "You two are _**married**_. I'm _**not**_ interfering."

"You did just now, by running away and taking Bryce with you," Minerva reminded him.

Alastor leaned toward her and earnestly informed her that he had been planning on returning. "Originally, I was going solo, but I caught him at the door. I convinced him that it would be better if we ran away together – that way he was with someone. We had a man to man chat and I had convinced him that he should come home. If I hadn't done that, you wouldn't know why he was so upset because he misunderstood what Kingsley said."

"Alastor, you really hurt Kingsley by doing a bunk. I am exceedingly angry with you regarding that. Not the running away part, because that's _**you**_, but the fact that you upset Kingsley. Didn't the thought cross your mind that perhaps you could have convinced Bryce to stay? Perhaps, remind him that he was _**hungry**_? No, you rewarded him with ice cream!"

"I've never run away before," protested Alastor.

"When dealing with personal issues, you just go to ground. Emotionally, you do a bunk. You've got to stop that, Alastor. There are two children involved now and… now…now I have to figure out how to let Nora know that both her fathers have decided to leave."

"I'm stepping aside for her good, Minerva…" Alastor began.

Minerva made a quick gesture with her hand to silence him. Her eyes were blazing with emotion and Alastor stepped back.

"You and Kingsley have both made the noble decision to step aside. You both call it nobility; I call it as I see it. Unilateral decisions in which I should have been involved. I _**knew**_, Alastor, that you'd be the one that would shut me out… However, I didn't think Kingsley would. You two are a perfectly matched set!"

Something sparked inside Alastor and he wasn't having any of Minerva's thoroughly unjustified condemnation.

"And you taking the job at Hogwarts, was not that a unilateral decision?" Alastor retorted. "You wiped your hands of me when I was falling apart."

"You shut me out and turned to the bottle, Alastor. You went days without talking to me, yet every night, you needed sex…"

They were ripping open the old wound; the half-healed, festering wound that they had never examined too closely before.

"Because I didn't have a clue what to say, Minerva. I didn't know what to say and you didn't tell me what you needed me to say. I craved direction from you and you just couldn't be bothered, because you had already made the decision to leave me. You had already checked out, Minerva! Every night we made love, I was hoping to convince you to stay. That one night, I'd touch you in the right way and you'd actually tell me what you needed! You knew how I was, how you were the only person I loved and trusted… and you shut me out! You never asked me how I was feeling. Did you think you were the only one that was _**grieving**_? She was my daughter too! I understand that you carried her for three months, but I loved her."

Alastor's voice was a near roar and Minerva's antique oil lamp exploded into glass shards. Normally, when the two combatants had reached this juncture, this level of passion, Alastor would sweep her off her feet and take her to bed.

However, Alastor wanted to do the right thing for the first time in his life.

In a very soft voice, Minerva spoke. "I never asked you how you were feeling because I truly feared your answer, Alastor. That you blamed me and my wonky womb for not being able to give you what you desired most in the world. Now, Alastor, I'd appreciate if you would go to your room now. I won't have Tessie help you into your jimjams and I won't take your stuffed dragon away."

He raised his hands as though to put them on her shoulders and Minerva shook her head.

"Go to your room, Alastor. _**Please**_."

In response, Alastor's voice was quite low. "I _**never**_ blamed you for what happened. When you left me, I was completely cored. That night in Glasgow… when we reconnected… it meant so much to me. I knew that it would never be the same between us, but…it was my happiest memory."

Alastor sighed and looked at the shattered lamp.

"I'm _**dangerous**_, Minerva. I can't control my magic and it would be safer for everyone. I'm doing it for her good, Min. A father should put their child first, to keep her safe and free from harm. A _**proper**_ father would do that. I always swore that I'd be a proper father, Minerva."

Minerva turned away from him and hugged herself.

* * *

Minerva requested that Nessie oversee her children and her houseguest as she needed a breather. She knocked on Poppy's door and announced that she'd like to speak with her friend. Instead of Poppy's warm alto, Filius Flitwick's piping tenor invited her into Poppy's quarters.

"Poppy had an incident so she had to get to work. Told me it would only take a few minutes to settle it, so I should wait for her to return. Minerva, you look like you have been dragged through the Quidditch pitch by a herd of Thestrals."

"If I only felt that good. I was hoping I could talk to her," Minerva confessed. "Perhaps tomorrow?"

"Tosh! Sit down, Minerva. Talk to me." Filius insisted. "What's bothering you?"

This was the time that Minerva desperately needed another female. Especially one that had known her as long as Poppy had. However, Filius was quite possibly the most compassionate soul on the Hogwarts staff, so he'd have to do in a pinch. And well, he _**had**_ offered. No doubt he'd regret his largesse and run screaming into the night.

She'd refrain from silly histrionics.

Oh yes, that promise lasted as long as it took for her to open her mouth.

"Alastor's alive and is currently in one of my spare bedrooms! Bryce and he decided to run away, however, Alastor claims that he had convinced Bryce to return. And both Alastor and Kingsley have decided to be… carnaptious cocks…" Minerva spat that insult with all the fury of a Scottish warrior enraged.

"Minerva!" Filius gasped, in mock disbelief over her language.

"And both have decided to step aside so that the other man can be Nora's father. So at the moment, instead of having a plethora of fathers, Nora has no father. Meanwhile, the reason why Bryce ran away is because he thinks Kingsley doesn't want him around and … I just found out part of the problem with Kingsley and Bryce. I think Kingsley is identifying a bit too much with Bryce so he's trying too hard."

That admitted, Minerva collapsed into the chair closest to Filius and she shook her head.

"What is bothering you the most about Alastor and Kingsley?" Filius asked.

"I could understand and even accept Kingsley and Alastor stepping aside, if the two of them were getting back together. They _**aren't**_. No, they are trying to push the other man into staying with me and the children. They're being _**noble**_, Filius. How I loathe _**nobility**_, Filius. "

"Very well, let's deal with our carnaptious cocks first, Alastor and Kingsley. Then we can discuss Bryce, though I will remind you that I am a trained grief counselor. I will talk with Bryce if you'd like. I've been meaning to ask you about it, but I've been busy with my Eagles after the war."

"Filius, that would be _**wonderful**_," Minerva said. "However, you are completely unsurprised about Alastor being alive. Were you in _**collusion**_ with Severus Snape?"

Her eyes narrowed and Filius held out his hands in denial.

"Minerva, I'm a dueling master. I learn to keep my emotions close to my vest."

Minerva arched an expressive eyebrow.

"Well, I try not to act _**surprised**_ at least. However, I thought I saw him in the Battle of Hogwarts. He was cutting quite the wicked swathe through the Death Eaters. I wasn't sure if it was really him or a manifestation of my deepest desire for much needed reinforcements. Yet, if anyone could survive a thousand foot fall after facing Voldemort face to face, it would be he. Does he wear a beard now?"

"Yes," Minerva tersely agreed.

"Bloody hell, it was _**HIM**_. He was in hiding for a year?" Filius questioned. "I'd do more than clout him if I were you. I'd at least get financial support from him."

"He had significant trauma which required an extended stay in a Muggle hospital. He's not completely right as he has issues with his memory and his magic."

"How is he, Minerva? _**Really**_?" the eagled-eyed Filius questioned. "Besides the memory and the magic, how is he?"

Minerva inhaled and then exhaled. "He reminds me of the _**old**_ Alastor. The Muggle doctors apparently gave him something for his raging paranoia as they believe him spell-shocked. We actually held a serious conversation and not once did he look under the settee for a possible ambush."

"The old Alastor? As in the old Alastor, the oh-so serious beau that you fell in love with?" The perceptive Filius asked.

"Yes," Minerva simply admitted. "Yes, he was the old Alastor."

Filius softly sighed and then offered her a cuppa. "I've added something to it to make you talkative, Minerva. You need to process your emotions before you go forth and do battle with the boys."

Minerva hesitantly sipped at tea, and there was only the faintest taste of a soothing potion.

"Very well, Minerva. Let us talk. Or should I say, I'll listen, you talk. First of all, you must confess that you are in love with Kingsley. It was delightful watching that relationship bloom. In the beginning, I truly believed you'd hex off his nethers as you were so annoyed. I feared that there would be a paradox as I had considered Kingsley Nora's father until she was found in the broom closet, sporting a shock of curly ginger hair."

Minerva nodded her head.

"And I would say that you are still in love with Alastor?" The compassionate Filius asked. "Be honest with yourself, Minerva."

"I never stopped loving him, even when he was with Kingsley," was all she would admit.

"I am jumping to conclusions which I hate to do as a Ravenclaw. Never the less, I will state my belief that the two men involve feel the same way. So, we have three people all in love with each other. I just don't see the problem. I think you're woman enough to handle two men. However, I would suggest getting a larger bed so there's plenty of room to stretch about in the afterglow. As much as I love to cuddle, sometimes it's just too humid to do so."

"Filius, you know that it's simply not realistic for the three of us…"

Filius interrupted her and told her to close her eyes.

"Minerva, you need to really think about this. I want you to tell me about your relationship with Alastor. What attracted you to our ginger haired Alastor way back when? Take a long deep breath, and then slowly exhale. I want you to do that until you found your inner Minerva that you have nearly succeeded in silencing. We need to hear from the eleven year old Minerva who sat with Alastor in Herbology."

She closed her eyes and thought for a bit.

"He trusted me. For some reason, Alastor trusted me from the very first moment we sat together in Beery's class. I was his only friend and I was flattered. For my birthday, he gave me his mother's pendant because he thought I was special."

"You are very special, Minera. I've noticed that even after all these years, you still wear the pendant," offered Filius.

"Yes."

"Tell me more about the Old Alastor?" Filius suggested.

"He was my first," Minerva blurted. She opened her eyes and glared at Filius."_**What**_ did you put in my tea?"

"I added a little something to break down your Scottish Stoicism. However I fear that I may soon regret it as I shall be quite embarrassed." And yes, Filius was sporting quite the embarrassed glow.

"Very well then, I hope I humiliate you terribly. He was my first and he was quite sweet about it."

"Sixteen year old boys don't appreciate being told that their love making is _**sweet**_ especially when it is their lovers' first experience. Old men like me cherish the compliment but not young men," Filius dryly informed her.

"Alastor was very affectionate and caring." Was all Minerva would inform Filius, but that was only because she bit her tongue to prevent herself from spilling all the lusty details.

"Argy, bargy moody Moody?" Filius exclaimed.

"Yes, that's the surface Alastor. The façade he shows the world."

"Describe the real Alastor to me. What did he bring to your relationship?" was the next prompt.

"Fire and passion. Sense of justice. He felt so keenly." Minerva stopped and then swallowed. "Emotionally reserved, which grew more pronounced after he joined the Auror Corps. Reticence which built a wall between us. It was exhausting, having to force my way behind his barriers. A growing fear that he couldn't hide, that one day, I'd cast him aside because of his flaws. His fears were well founded."

"It's not completely your fault, Minerva. What did you bring into the relationship?"

"Besides the obvious?" Minerva couldn't help but quip. "My v…"

"Besides your virginity, Minerva." Filius tsk'd tsk'd her crudity.

Well, that wasn't the word Minerva was about to shock the old Charms Master with.

"I loved him and he became quite close with my father. My father and Alastor understood each other as they were similar."

"Is that why you and Alastor hit it off? Because your father and he…?" the sharp Filius asked.

"No, I _**wasn't**_ dating my father, Filius," Minerva informed him. "My father mentored Alastor, tried to show him what a real father was like."

"What about Kingsley?" Filius questioned.

Minerva blushed and smiled. "He amazes me, more and more every day. He's compassionate and he was wonderful for Alastor. I regret all those years I was jealous. Those wasted opportunities."

"Yes, you two could have had a sexual sortee with Alastor," inserted Filius.

This time it was Minerva's turn to blush.

"No, no, no. Filius, I regret that I caused friction between him and Alastor. If I hadn't been jealous, the two of us could have been friends. He's such an old soul. Kingsley knew that he wasn't Nora's father, yet he stayed with me and got me through it. He's marvelous with the children and he's… he's a brick. Filius, I can _**talk**_ with him."

"So with one man, you have fire and passion, and the second you have stability and dependability. Really, the best of both worlds. Minerva, I think you have to accept the simple truth that you need a bigger bed. As for Bryce, I have just the book for him. Give it to Kingsley and have him read it to Bryce. It is entitled 'The Runaway Dragon'."

"I haven't heard of that classic," Minerva wryly admitted.

"You wouldn't. I just Charmed it up for you, based on a Muggle book I read a long time ago. There's a little boy dragon, who wishes to run away. The papa dragon tells the little dragon that if he runs away, the papa dragon will run after him. If the little dragon turns into a demiguise, the papa dragon will find him. It's a really moving story which ends with the little dragon deciding to stay right where he is, with the papa dragon. They share a ginger bikkie and all is right with their world."

"Thank you," was her soft response.

"The moral of the story is, the little dragon realizes that no matter where he runs, his papa dragon will find him."

* * *

Minerva returned back to her quarters and Kingsley was close behind. The minister gracelessly collapsed into his chair, removed this kufi, and then rubbed his aching head with his hands.

"How are you?" Minerva softly asked.

A long sigh that came from his toes was his only response.

"I punished both of them, sent them to bed without their supper," Minerva explained.

"I don't think they'll miss it. Both had made a sizable dent into the Florean Flambé even without the helpful assistance of Bryce's stuffed dragon."

"Are the thoughts of nobly abandoning me still filling your mind?" Minerva challenged her husband.

"Yes, but now it's because I'm rather unhappy how situation has changed. When Alastor and I were together, I wondered about the possibility of us raising a child. Now, Minerva, I didn't say how the child would arrive, but I had wondered, that if one day, it should happen, what the dynamics would be. Somehow, Minerva, I always thought Alastor would have the hardchaw and I'd be the cool father. I'd take the child out to Florean's while argy bargy Alastor protested and made a proper nuisance of himself."

Minerva struggled not to show her amusement, but not very successfully, as she laughed.

"He's become the cool Papa, while I'm the bloody hardchaw!" Kingsley half-heartedly protested. "Alastor took him out for ice cream, Minerva, and there was a _**firework**_ in it. What happened to _**our**_ Alastor? The one that would have wiped out half of Florean's because of the firework? No, _this_ Alastor made sure that Bryce had extra whipped cream and caramel sauce. Did you see him? Alastor licked his finger as he had whipped cream on it."

The Minister was pretending to be light-hearted, but Minerva could feel his emotional pain.

"Kingsley, I'm not letting you go. I'm also not letting Alastor leave," was her serious response.

"Minerva?" Kingsley asked. "What are you saying?"

"We must go shopping for a bigger bed as soon as possible," Minerva explained. "You're both tall men and we'll need room to stretch out at night. I could transfigure our current bed, but at least, we should really get a new mattress. That way the three of us can break it in together."

"I don't know if Alastor's up to some serious mattress bouncing. Usually by now, he would have finagled one of us into bed in order to convince us how much he loves us. He's in a bad way, Min. Hasn't even tried to seduce you."

"Or _**you**_, I know. But I think the two of us can heal him," Minerva assured him. "Plus fatten him up. He's gotten quite thin."

"I prefer him a bit heavier than he is now. Since I'm bred and born in Barbados, damp, chilly nights go right through me. Alastor would keep me warm at night but if I think I'd enjoy it even more, being in the middle of you two. You are a hot blooded vixen, Minerva."

He grinned and then lost his smile as he looked at Minerva's liquor cabinet. "Minerva? I thought you put the fire whiskey away. Did you pour some more and not put it back? I could use a nip."

"I put it away. See, it's there. It's just in a different spot, where the … Midleton whisky was…" Minerva paused and then looked at Kingsley. "The Midleton was there when I put the fire whiskey away."

"Minerva? When Alastor drank… what was his poison?" Kingsley asked.

"Midleton…." Minerva admitted.

"_**Alastor**_," they said in unison.

* * *

He had easily swiped the bottle from Minerva's liquor cabinet. That done, he put it on the blanket chest, before he sat on the edge of the bed. It was the easy solution to the problem facing them all, because if he started drinking now, he'd never stop.

All those years he had been clean, Alastor had never once been tempted to start drinking again. Hadn't even minded that Kingsley had the occasional nip after work. However… Alastor was falling apart. His heart was shattered and he felt… old… Everything hurt and he pondered about the Muggle medication Kwasi had prescribed for him. How much did he have? Was it enough? Best if he went someplace else and ended it because he'd hate to make someone at Hogwarts clean up his final mess.

The door to his room opened with a furious bang and two voices cried out, "_**Expelliarmus**_!"

The bottle, a poor innocent bystander in his looming mental collapse, didn't deserve to be magically flung across the room and smashed into the wall. Its liquid contents were then dissolved by Kingsley and Minerva.

"That was the waste of a very fine whiskey," mumbled Alastor. "Especially since I hadn't partaken so much as a drop. I swear to you, I didn't have any. I didn't a single drop."

Both Kingsley and Minerva then tightly hugged him, and Alastor Moody broke down in tears.


	16. Chapter 16

The three of them were sitting side by side (by side) on the bed. Minerva and Kingsley were still embracing Alastor and he felt cored. Well, correctly, he felt both cored _**and**_ confused. Kingsley was rubbing his hand against Alastor's face and Minerva's hand was most assuredly resting on Alastor's inner thigh.

What surprised him most was that the embrace didn't feel _**awkward**_. It should be an uncomfortable moment, as the two people he had kept hurting, time after time, were embracing him… but it felt _**right**_. Like he was finally coming home.

It was be so easy just to relax into their embrace. The way Minerva's hand curved as though it felt there, the simple feel of Kingsley's hand… yet he shouldn't allow himself this intimacy, because he was Chaos and Discord personified.

"No drinking, Alastor," Minerva chastised him. "I'm not letting you start drinking again."

"I agree. No drinking, Alastor," Kingsley firmly asserted. "Your children need you sober. _**We**_ need you sober."

"I didn't drink so much as a single drop," protested Alastor. His tone was exhausted and he hoped that they believed his earnestness. "Didn't even open the bottle."

"Alastor…" Kingsley then sighed. "If you feel the urge to start drinking, talk to us, _**please**_."

"At the moment, I'd deeply appreciate… if you could remove the temptation," requested Alastor.

How he loathed to admit that weakness to them. He had never before requested that Minerva and Kingsley hide their liquor. Thought it spoke well of him and his inner strength, that he wasn't tempted to fall into the liquid abyss, that he could be around others that could drink and not be tempted. In his pride, he believed that he'd never again fall to that nadir of depression.

"Consider it all gone," Minerva assured him.

"Sorry, I know you both always liked a nip," Alastor apologized. "It's just right now… I'd prefer not to be near it."

"Alastor, don't be a prat. You know I easily can do without a bit of scotch. It's you that I can't live without," Kingsley explained.

"I wholeheartedly agree with Kingsley," inserted Minerva.

The three of them stayed like that for a bit until a spent Alastor let himself relax into their embrace.

"I'm not sure about the beard," a laughing Kingsley commented. "What is your opinion, Minerva?"

"I like it," Minerva murmured her approval. She punctuated her endorsement with that slight, teasing smile that used to and still made Alastor burn. "Makes him look roguish."

"Yes, our mischievous Moody," laughed Kingsley.

"I'd like to go to bed," protested Alastor. Yes, he needed a bit of a kip. He was tired and everything was aching something fierce. Plus he had a strong desire to lick his wounds, in private.

"That's our Alastor," was Minerva's response. "Though we truly need a bigger bed for a proper homecoming."

"I'd really like to go to bed," he desperately repeated. His plaintive request earned him pleased laughter from the two people sitting on his bed.

"That request definitely sounds like our Alastor," was Kingsley's comment. "Though we really need to talk about us becoming a threesome before we take it to bed, Alastor. We need to discuss many things before we get to the fun part."

"I agree. However, Kingsley, I think there's enough room here so we can cuddle," Minerva announced.

_**What?**_

"Please," Alastor tiredly protested. "I'm begging you. Please stop talking rubbish. My neck… my back…I need my medication."

The two of them didn't stop. No, they pulled him into the middle of the bed by his belt loops. While he was laying there, like a great big bloody beached whale, Minerva charmed him out of his clothes and into a long nightshirt and Kingsley took off his leg. Disrobed and unlegged, he could only watch with one eye as Minerva conjured two glasses of water, one for his medication and one for his fake eye. Not to be outdone, Kingsley was creating assorted pillows to help position him so he was comfortable.

Alastor swallowed his pills, rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. He wasn't one to take pain medication, and he took only the barest minimum when he needed it. Not tonight as he was craving a cuppa of Lethe. Tonight he took the full dose and then a little extra.

'Twas not like he'd overdose. Kwasi had assured him that he could increase the dosage slightly if he was in real pain.

"His back is in spasms. Should I get Poppy?" Kingsley asked.

"No," Alastor slurred. "Be asleep in a few…."

Kingsley slipped behind him and Minerva slipped in front of him. The two of them reached for his left hand and clasped it. It was a tight fit in his bed, but they had managed not to jar him and his glass back.

"Go to sleep," whispered Minerva. "We'll be here if you need us. And we're not talking rubbish."

Alastor woke in the middle of the night as Kingsley was leaving the bed. The slight dip in the mattress disturbed him from his deep sleep.

"Where's his stuffed dragon?" was the soft question.

Minerva answered quietly and Kingsley padded out of the room.

"We'll need your help with him," Minerva said. "He's quite in awe of you."

"Kingsley?" Alastor asked. He was a bit groggy and this conversation wasn't making sense.

"Don't be a daft prat," Minerva chided. "_**Bryce**_. You slept through the first disturbance. He was positive you were in trouble because of him. I assured him that you get into enough trouble on your own."

"Minerva…" protested Alastor.

She turned to face him, "I didn't tell him _**that**_, Alastor. Kingsley assured him that he was not responsible for any trouble you might be in. Kingsley and I are working as a team in raising the children. You must cease being the odd man out. We require a united front with them, especially since you'll be considered their third parent. Ideally, and this will take time with Bryce, I can see the children growing up with two fathers and one mum."

"I'd much prefer to be the barmy uncle Al," Alastor suggested.

"No, Kingsley is vexed that you have become the cool parent by absconding with Bryce and having ice cream. If you became Barmy Uncle Al, he'd be most displeased as he'll never have a chance to be anything but the stern Da. Seriously, you _**will**_ be considered one of their fathers. Parents require special time where they're alone. Let's not confuse the children by adding their allegedly barmy uncle into that equation. Really, Alastor, do you want Bryce to horrify everyone by prattling on about how his mum is having a threesome with his father and his barmy uncle Al?"

"I _**don't**_ understand."

That was an understatement. Alastor had fallen head over tit through the looking class and landed on his bloody arse at the bottom of the rabbit hole. Somewhere during his travels, he must have rebuggered up his head as nothing was making sense.

"People look down on women that are involved with two men, Alastor. That's rather sexist, as most men think it speaks well for one man to be involved with two women. We'll have this conversation when you're feeling more like yourself. However, I want you to know I love Kingsley."

"I'm delighted," Alastor stated. "I am so happy I could burst. I always wanted you two to be mates."

"Let me finish, Alastor. And God help me, I have _**never**_ stopped loving you." Minerva placed her hand on his scarred cheek. "We will wait to discuss this with you when you're feeling like your old self. However, I just wanted to convince you that there is no reason for you to run away!"

He was saved from answering by the arrival of Kingsley.

"Bryce was completely knackered from crying. He fell asleep the minute he got his dragon back," Kingsley explained. "I don't think anyone would be able to take it away from him and they'd have to deal with me if they succeeded. I see you're both awake, what did I miss?"

Kingsley pulled the duvet down slightly and in a mournful tone, "Still clothed, I see."

"I can't…" protested Alastor.

"Easy, Alastor…. I'm not serious," explained Kingsley. The younger man crawled into the bed and he rolled toward Alastor. "How's the form? Is your back still in spasms?"

"Bloody knackered. Need to get some sleep, so stop your nattering," Alastor growled.

Kingsley's sharp inhale was the only sound in the room. Minerva shook her head in disapproval and Alastor's face fell as he realized how abrupt he sounded.

"I'm worn out, Kingsley. You know how I get… didn't mean nothing," muttered Alastor.

"Yes, Alastor. I know how you are," Kingsley softly agreed. The younger man rolled away from Alastor and closed his eyes.

Alastor struggled for a bit, but he managed to roll over so he was facing the younger man. "Lee…I didn't mean to sound so sharp. You know how I get when I'm in a bad way. I didn't mean it."

That earned him a nod.

* * *

Kingsley roundly cursed himself for being an idjit. He had witnessed Alastor and Minerva having an intimate conversation and he has been green-eyed. Instead of just accepting it, because he was feeling a bit put out with how quickly the introverted Bryce had bonded with Alastor, he had barged in like a dragon in a wand shop and Alastor had gotten snarly.

Funny, when he was trying to grasp the concept that Alastor was alive, ALIVE, somehow he thought that the happy homecoming would be a little… well… _happy_. Naively, he had agreed to Minerva's barmy idea of a bloody troika because Kingsley didn't wish to lose either of them. Because Kingsley had stupidly believed that each of them would bring something to the relationship - something vital that would make it healthier and a great deal less dysfunctional for everyone involved. Because he thought it would be… _**equal**_…. like a triangle.

Because Kingsley truly had no claim to Nora and Bryce hadn't bonded with him yet.

Because he was bloody scared that he'd lose everything.

"I'm worn out, Kingsley. You know how I get… didn't mean nothing," muttered Alastor.

"Yes, Alastor. I know how you are," Kingsley softly agreed. The younger man rolled away from Alastor and closed his eyes.

"Lee…I didn't mean to sound so sharp. You know how I get when I'm in a bad way. I _**didn't**_ mean it."

He nodded his head, in easy agreement. Kingsley was surprised when he felt Alastor grasp his hand and then Alastor brushed Kingsley's knuckles with his lips. It reminded him of times past, the first morning after their first night. His nervousness and how Alastor eased his concerns by that simple gesture.

_**He was in bed with Alastor Moody. **_

_**Bloody Alastor Moody, the laconic living legend, ministry malcontent, who had done his noble best to bugger Kingsley through the mattress the entire night long. He and Alastor were spooning, and that was Alastor's arm that was embracing him. His clothed arm. And Kinglsey kept bumping his leg against Alastor's fake leg, causing Alastor to groan slightly.**_

_**Alastor hadn't gotten undressed. Well; he had gotten undressed enough to not make a mess, but once his fun was done, Alastor had quickly gotten clothed again. And the leg had stayed on. **_

_**As though Alastor was debating the need for a quick getaway.**_

_**And Kingsley didn't have the slightest ideas where his clothes were. His shirt was probably in the parlor…. His belt was in the hallway… He thought he might be wearing his left sock…. If that…. **_

_**Alastor's hand reached for his and the older man pulled it towards him. He brushed Kingsley's knuckles with his lips and the older man whispered a very soft, "Morning, Kingsley."**_

"Didn't mean to be stroppy," repeated Alastor.

"Get some sleep," instructed Kingsley. "We'll figure out everything tomorrow."

* * *

His dreams were full of falling from a great height with the ground coming closer and closer to him until someone… _**Kingsley**_… assisted him into a deep, dreamless sleep. When he woke, he found himself alone in bed. However, he wasn't alone in the room as Minerva informed him that breakfast would be served as soon as he had a wash up.

Any hopes for a peaceful meal was spelled to hell by Kingsley, who informed him that they were having a _**Serious Family Discussion.**_

Maybe it would have been to let the Death Eater get him. Because when they grew tired of torturing him, they would have killed him.

Not so Minerva, she would never cease her noble attempts at turning into the proper sort.

"I'd like to get washed up," Alastor informed Kingsley. Regretfully, he then asked Kingsley for assistance. "Would you mind… creating a chair and putting it in the tub for me?"

Kingsley looked confused, so Alastor fumbling explained, "I need to sit when I take a shower."

"You don't want a long soak? Minerva has some bath salts…"

"Bath salts?" growled Alastor. "I might be missing a few memories, but I don't believe that I have ever used _**bath salts**_."

"They are supposed to help your tense muscles relax. I promise you, you'll still smell masculine after you get out of the tub. I got everything ready for you, just like old times. Water's just the way you like it. Warm enough to soak, yet not so hot you'll boil in it. Now get in the tub."

"With bath salts, Lee!" Next thing he'd know, he'd be perfuming his arse!

"Well, yes. With bath salts, that is supposed to help loosen your tense muscles. It's obvious you're in pain, Alastor."

"I can't soak, Kingsley. I've never been particularly limber, but I could maneuver myself in and out of the tub. I can't do that now. I can barely handle showering while sitting in a chair."

Alastor Moody had some pride left, so he wasn't about to mentioned to Kingsley that he had gone arse over tit the last time he had gotten out of the shower. He had fallen hard on his side, and he had managed to crawl to a spot where he could pull himself off the floor.

"I can get you into the tub, Alastor. Get you out of it, too. Alastor, don't be a proud bastard. Let me help you," Kingsley insisted.

"Not being proud. I just don't want to display my bits in front of you. You're bonded and a family man. Wouldn't be proper."

Kingsley shook his head and laughed. It was a warm, mellow sound that Alastor _**remembered**_. The younger man reached towards Alastor and he brushed Alastor's shaggy hair out of his eyes.

"Looking a mite shaggy, Alastor," Kingsley gently chastised. "Need a haircut."

Alastor jerked his head away from Kingsley, making sure that his hair hid some of his latest scars. Wasn't sure why the latest bunch bothered him the most, as they were by far the least noticeable of his assorted war wounds. Never the less, the sprinkling of small indented circles across his head and leg, the remnants of the various pins and screws that had been drilled into his body disturbed him. Jerking his head like that was a stupid thing to do as the abrupt movement aggravated his painful neck and he winced.

"Alastor," Kingsley began to protest before he stopped, accepting the very futility of arguing with Alastor when he was in _**that**_ mood. "A long soak will do you good. Minerva has this marvelous soaking tub, so you can get in and relax. It's a large tub, large enough for a dozen or so people, so would you like some company?"

Alastor said not a word and Kingsley added in what he hoped was an entreating tone, "I'll wear a swimming cossie."

* * *

Alastor walked stiffly into the kitchen. Minerva deliberately ignored how Alastor was favoring his good leg. Through heard earned experience, learnt the hard way after Alastor had lost his leg, she bit her tongue. Not that she wasn't quite tempted to call him a daft prat or worse. However, she knew that her chastisement on top of Alastor's mortification was an explosive combination.

It seemed that Kingsley's offer to bathe Alastor had not gone over well. A stubborn, stiffed necked Alastor had ordered Kingsley out of the room and then had inadvertently nearly killed himself by either falling in or out of the sunken tub. He had refused to request assistance from either Minerva or Kingsley, but the poor House Elf had been drafted into getting him dressed and upright once more. And a still trembling Nessie wasn't saying anything at all about the experience.

The left side of Alastor's face was swollen and he was unable to grasp his knife.

"Minerva?" Alastor asked. His head was down and his shaggy hair was hiding most of his face. "Where are the children?"

"Bryce is with Uncle Filius as they are having a bit of a chinwag," explained Minerva.

"And our little lady is joining us for brunch," Kingsley explained. He had Nora cradled in one arm while he entered. "Say 'hello' to your Da, Nora. This meal promises to be messy as she's learning how to feed herself. Let me get her food ready."

Kingsley gestured and everyone's food was neatly cut. He then sat down after securing Nora in her highchair which he had placed next to Alastor.

"Oops," was Kingsley's sincere sounding explanation though Minerva hid her smile behind her cuppa. Kingsley had over-reached on his spell in such a way to assist Alastor in eating. Then again, Alastor wasn't likely to complain because Nora had made a noise akin to 'Da'. "I did some damage control, so I hope you two don't mind."

"Damage control?" Minerva asked.

"Arthur Weasley asked me if Alastor's alive. Seems one of the twins thought they saw him at Gingrott's when they were depositing their ill gotten gain. Gred or Forge wasn't sure it was him, but Bryce and his dreads are distinctive. Plus Bryce had his dragon which he got from George. I decided to take a lesson from Hermione Granger and I spoke with Xeno Lovegood."

"What did you put in The Quibbler?" was Minerva's quick question. No so, Alastor as he was three steps behind his conversation, plus he was distracted by the rather messy sight of his daughter eating scrambled eggs. He had witnessed starving Trolls devouring their prey with more finesse than the ginger haired sprite. "Alastor, I _**am**_ keeping an eye on Nora. She's learning how to eat so yes, it's _**messy**_."

"She eats like a troll," he blurted.

Minerva put a great deal of snap in her tone when she responded. "She eats like a fifteen month old, Alastor, not like a troll! Nora is a fifteen month old who is insisting on being stubborn and independent; traits which I might add, she gets from you. Speaking of trolls, I suppose the Quibbler is better than Rita Skeeter. What did you tell Xeno?"

"Alastor is alive and he is living with us. Let me finish, I explained to Xeno that Alastor is the wizard I trust the most in the world, and there is no one else that I would assign the safety of our children. As for Nora's ginger hair, I mentioned how your father's maiden aunt was ginger."

While Minerva was digesting that, Alastor spoke.

"Ina had long blonde hair which I believe was totally unnatural due to her advanced age," Alastor inserted. "She wasn't ginger. Auntie Ina also disliked me as I wasn't a Protestant."

"Ina didn't like your father," inserted Minerva. "But Father thought the world of you. That's all that mattered."

"Malcolm would have approved of Kingsley," offered Alastor. "Proper, respectable family."

Kingsley felt somewhat left out of the conversation as Minerva glared at Alastor. It seemed that this was an old argument between the two Celtic warriors.

"That argument, in case you don't recall, is deader than an inferni's arse," Minerva retorted.

"I have forgotten," admitted a somber Alastor. "I've forgotten so much."

There wasn't much any of them could say to that, so instead the troika watched as Nora continued to messily eat. And Kingsley was bemused by the fact that yes, Nora did eat like a troll.

At last Minerva spoke, "Alastor, will you meet with Poppy? So she can see what's been done to you?"

"Kwasi and Anna did their best by me," grumbled Alastor. "Wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for them."

"Yes, I can understand why you feel that way, but Alastor, they put metal screws in you, sawed off part of your skull…" explained Minerva. "I can't command you to do it, but please, just have Poppy examine you? Please?"

"I'll go," was Alastor's surprising answer. "And I'll take Spellcasting for Idjits with Filius."

* * *

Alastor was escorted to the infirmary and both Minerva and Kingsley were told in no uncertain terms that it wasn't necessary to mind him. They didn't put up a fight, instead they rather submissively agreed. If Alastor hadn't so happy that they had agreed to his request, he would have wondered why they hadn't put up more of a fight.

"We need to talk about Alastor," Kingsley explained. His voice was concerned and Minerva nodded her head in approval. "You know him far better than I do."

"I've known him for longer, that's all," protested Minerva.

"What do you think?" Kingsley asked. He reached for Minerva's hand and he gently squeezed it. "What do you _**really**_ think?"

"He's better than I would have ever dared believed…" slowly admitted Minerva. "However, he's nowhere near what I would hope. He's _**Alastor**_, but he's _**not**_. Alastor…. When we were alone, in private, Alastor liked… no… he _**needed**_… to be touched. I couldn't get close to this new Alastor."

"I brushed his hair out of his eyes. He flinched, and Minerva… he is so damn hard to read, harder than the old Alastor," Kingsley admitted. "Kwasi mentioned that with Traumatic Brain Injuries… there's a strong possibility that the old Alastor won't be coming back. I don't want you getting your heart broken by this new Alastor."

"Alastor has broken my heart innumerous times over the years, Kingsley. It's traditional," Minerva attempted an astringent quip but she knew she failed miserably. With a quick abrupt gesture, she wiped her tearing eyes. "And you? Are you abandoning our new Alastor?"

"No, never… I am just having problems reading him. I thought he wanted to be touched. Just _**touched**_, nothing more…It wasn't sexual, Minerva, and he jerked away."

"He doesn't know what he wants right now, because he doesn't know himself," explained Minerva. "What we can do is just offer _**unconditional**_ acceptance. And Kingsley, all the various Alastors I known over the years, the firstie at Hogwarts, the man I was engaged to, the man who went all inward … he always liked to be touched. He's always been very tactile, it's just he needs to completely trust you."

"He doesn't trust me anymore? Is that what you're saying?" Kingsley asked.

Minerva put her hands on Kingsley's shoulders and squeezed them. "Alastor's father caused a lot of harm. Alastor has always been… damaged. He's skittish and leery about connecting with people. It always took him a great deal of time and effort for him to be comfortable with someone. I fear that this new Alastor has this same trait."

"Couldn't tell the way he and Bryce have bonded," protested Kingsley. He tried to keep his tone level, but Minerva knew him too well. She shook her head. "They're best mates. Go out for ice cream though I'm blaming the stuffed dragon for that bad behavior. He's a Weasley dragon after all."

"Because Bryce is a pocket sized version of you, and Alastor cannot help but adore Bryce," explained Minerva. "Nora may be my physical child with Alastor; Bryce is most assuredly my emotional child with you. I'm sorry I am unable to give you your own child…I wish I could, as I think it would reassure you of your place in my life."

"You shouldn't use a baby to cement a relationship," protested Kingsley.

"No, I truly wish I could have your child, Kingsley. I always wished for four, while Alastor readily agreed, secretly I think fatherhood scared the hell out of him. Too much potential for failure, while you are a natural. You're as scared as I am, however, you don't show it. Alas, I'm too old…and while I had always envisioned four ginger haired sprites, I'm quite delighted with my little somber boy with his dreadlocks."

"You're not too old. There are women far older than you that have babies. However, I'd never inflict that agony on you again. You were miserable for your entire pregnancy, Minerva. That's why I'm especially careful when we make love."

They were sitting next to each other and Minerva rested her head on Kingsley's shoulder. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it.

"We don't want Alastor to do a runner. Therefore we can't move too fast with him, but I put the offer on the table so he'd know that we wanted him to be part of our family. See if you can use Alastor to help you bond with Bryce."

"Do want to meet Kwasi and Anna?"Kingsley asked. "They offered to have a chinwag with you about Alastor. I told them you were Alastor's ex-wife and I was his former partner at the MI5."

* * *

Anna Chalmers, physician, nearly spilled her cuppa when she turned the corner, as she wasn't anticipating that Kingsley Shacklebolt would be standing in the hall. He wasn't alone, as there was a dark haired woman with him.

"You're Minerva, aren't you?" Anna asked. She was a keen observer, so she had noticed the age difference between the two; that they were wearing matching wedding bands and that Minerva was quite uncomfortable being in the ward. While Minerva was wearing her best poker face, Anna saw how tightly the woman was holding Kingsley's hand. "Delightful to meet you. Would you like a cuppa with our chinwag?"

* * *

"Hello Alastor," was the warm greeting from Poppy. She and Alastor went back decades, as she was a Healer trainee when he was an Auror trainee. "You get yourself comfortable and I'll have my wicked, wicked way with you. When you're done here, Filius will bring Bryce down, so you can take him home. I must say, Alastor, you are walking _**much**_ smoother now."

"Had bone spurs, so when I was completely dead-head, they did surgery on it. The surgeons figured while they were screwing my legs back together again, they'd remove the spurs."

Poppy did not comment as while a pure-blood, she did have an interest in Muggle medicine. Also she had spent most of the last night reading and rereading Alastor's Muggle medical records that Kingsley had copied, much to the disappointment of a certain amorous Charms Master.

"Alastor, can you tell me about your treatment?" That was her next question.

"Apparently I broke just about every bone in body and they opened up my head. To see if I had a brain, I guess. After poking around my empty head for a bit, admiring the echo, they finally put my skull back together with spellotape. I think they put my skull on backwards as I've got a new dent in my head. Kwasi's bit of a smart arse, so I'm thinking it was his idea of a joke."

"Having head pains, I take it?" was her mild response.

"Yes," Alastor admitted, painfully obvious in his disappointment that he hadn't rattled her one single bit. It had been his favorite amusement when he had been in his personal bed at St. Mungo's.

"If it possible, I will remove some of the screws and plates they put in you which should help ease your pain. Metal and magic don't always go together well as you know from your leg. Alastor, I want you to close your eyes. I will cast a diagnostic spell, you should feel warm and sleepy, so don't fight it. You'll fall asleep, and I assure you that I won't take advantage of you while you're defenseless." Poppy gave Alastor a properly lecherous smirk and Alastor said not a word.

Didn't make a salty quip, which was surprising as he had always been one to take the mickey out of her.

No, he withdrew into himself, rolled over on his side and completely shut down.

* * *

Filius offered Bryce another bikkie and the young boy took it. The two of them had spent time together, with Filius deliberately laying the foundation so Bryce would feel comfortable with him. It certainly helped that he and Bryce stood eye to eye.

"Bryce, are you sad? You can tell me," assured Filius.

Bryce's dreadlocks flew as the young boy nodded his head and Filius leaned towards him. "Why are you sad?"

"Bad men hurt my Da," confessed Bryce. "He _**died**_."

"I'm sorry, is that why you're sad?" Filius began to reassure Bryce how that was normal, but the boy interrupted.

"Bad men hurt Alastor," explained Bryce, in what was a very serious tone. "What if bad men come back? What if they hurt Lee and Mum? What if bad men _**hurt**_ Nora?"

There, Bryce had admitted what was bothering him. It was really a great deal for a five year old to process, so Filius gently guided the young boy through continuing the conversation. After a bit of chin-wag, Filius had formulated the beginning of Bryce's play therapy and he knew just the two men to help play with Bryce.

"Shall we go catch up with Alastor?"

"I still can't turn my neck," protested Alastor. His tone was sharp, which was understandable as his face hurt along with a few other parts. His jaw was aching something fierce, and being a gentleman, he couldn't adequately explain to Poppy how much his hip hurt.

"I can only do so much, Alastor," was the tart retort. "You'll need massage therapy since I know you won't go for wand therapy. Stop touching your face, I told you I removed the plates!"

He grumbled some more and then Poppy shook her head. "Put on a happy face, as Filius is bringing Bryce over. You can escort him back home. I'm still waiting for some of the results of your diagnostic spells so…"

"You can tell Minerva and Kingsley the results. I wouldn't remember them anyway."

"Alastor," sighed Poppy. "I'll give Minerva and Kingsley the information. Just a suggestion when you're with Bryce. He's rather young, and he was severely traumatized by his father's death. That means, he does not act like a regular five year old. Sometimes, he'll act younger than his age, and he might be standoffish or even clingy. All I'm saying is… be patient with him."

Alastor grumbled a protest as he thought Bryce was just fine.

* * *

Bryce reached for Alastor's hand and he clutched it tightly. Fortified by the physical contact with Alastor and his extremely supportive stuffed dragon, Bryce was ready for his latest responsibility. To get Alastor back to Minerva's quarters.

The two disparate souls made it back without incident or lost of limb. After reporting their arrival back to Nessie the House Elf, Alastor decided he need to deal with his fake leg as it was paining him. No doubt Poppy had poked it with her wand, which explained why it hurt like blazes. He made himself comfortable on the couch and took off his fake leg. He was surprised when Bryce clambered onto the couch and snuggled next to him. The little boy had brought a comfy pillow, his stuffed dragon and a book.

Alastor remembered something about Bryce's book. The boy's father had given it to him, and Minerva had mentioned that the little boy brought it with him to bed.

"Tired?" Alastor asked.

In response, both boy and dragon yawned.

"So am I." Alastor softly admitted, trying not to growl.

Wishing Bryce came with an instructional spell book, Alastor hesitantly put his arm around Bryce. To his surprise the boy snuggled closer to him after placing his pillow and dragon just so.

"Please keep the bad men away?" Bryce pleaded.

Yes, Alastor had been a hardened Auror for years, decades even, and protecting the innocent and the allegedly innocent had been part of the trade. However, he was surprised by the overwhelming wave of protectiveness he experienced when Bryce made his request.

"Yes," assured a somber Alastor. "If any bad men show up, they'll have to deal with Kingsley, Minerva and me. However, I believe our combined reputations will scare all the bad men away."

"Good," mumbled Bryce. He may have said more but he was nearly asleep.

Alastor gestured and a voluminous lurid-multicolored comforter quilt appeared and draped itself over Bryce. The very luridness of it made Alastor's good eye burn, as he had been trying for a nice, understated tartan.

"I've got to get it together," Alastor whispered. "I can't screw this up."


	17. Chapter 17

Marriage Counseling with Filius Flitwick.

* * *

Kingsley and Minerva arrived promptly for their appointment with Filius and Poppy. "I'll make tea," offered Filius, allowing the three of them privacy.

Poppy, her former dorm mate, waited just long enough for Filius to leave the room before she shook her head. "_**Minerva MCGONAGALL – What would your father say**_?"

"I can tell by your tone of horrified disbelief that Filius told you his solution," was Minerva's dry quip. In a very wry tone, Minerva informed Kingsley that Poppy was bit of a puritan priss. For added embarrassment, she assured Kingsley that her father had been a romantic at heart, so he'd approve. Oh, he'd shake his head in stunned disbelief but he'd approve because he had grown to love Alastor as a son.

"Filius is a _**horrible**_ romantic," explained a blushing Poppy. "I'm not disgusted by your rather unique solution. I just really want to make sure you both know what to anticipate with Alastor."

"Terse, tetchy," began Kingsley.

"A severe difficulty in expressing his emotions," inserted Minerva.

"Depression, irritability, physical limitations," was Poppy's additions to the shopping list. If that wasn't sufficient, she gamely continued on, "Mood swings."

"His surname _**is**_ moody," reminded Kingsley.

"He's not the man you once knew," explained Poppy. She tried to keep her frustration from her voice. By hell, she was warning the two of them that they needed to go into this with both eyes open. And she was being met by a Hufflepuff surplus of blind optimism. Now she knew how Cassandra had felt when she had warned Troy about large wooden horses! "His memory is buggy. His magic is, at best, erratic."

"We can remind him of the happy memories we shared," insisted Minerva. "We can help him with his magic."

Poppy closed her eyes and prayed for patience. "Minerva, there's simply no polite way I can say this. From what I know of Alastor through you, sexual intercourse is a very important cornerstone of a relationship for him. Kingsley is in his sexual prime. Alastor is considerably older, plus he's experienced multiple episodes of extensive spinal cord trauma. If he is not able to perform… in what he views as a satisfactorily… sufficient manner… especially in comparison to Kingsley."

Good lord, she must be crimson.

"It will bother him," slowly admitted a rather pensive Kingsley. He seemed far too sober as though he was reliving a particularly heated conversation where there had been harsh words that had scored and scarred. "It will most assuredly bother him."

"I don't care if his todger works or not," protested Minerva. "If he's as limp as an overcooked noodle, it will not change how I feel. Poppy, what is important is that he's one of Nora's fathers. I will not let him slip into a splendid martyrdom where he decides it's best for everyone if he disappears."

"Also, God help me, I've never stopped loving him," softly admitted Minerva. "Yet, I'm quite besotted with this charmer."

Kingsley flashed Minerva a quick smile.

"I _**know**_ it will be difficult. I know and accept _**that**_ but I just can't abandon Alastor. I've always regretted how it ended between us..." Minerva admitted.

"I'm in complete agreement," Kingsley said. "We're not binning Alastor, nor are we letting him make any decision that involves him fleeing."

"Is this due to a sense of pity and obligation?"

"NO," protested Minerva. "It is not pity or obligation. I know Alastor, I know that if he believes that there's pity or a feeling of duty or obligation involved, it will destroy him. What I have learned from this is that I've never stopped loving Alastor. I want to be able to love him, and I want Alastor to be able to love Kingsley properly, without any adolescent jealousy. He will be a full partner in this relationship."

Poppy noticed but didn't comment on the fact that Minerva gave Kingsley's hand a gentle squeeze. She would give Minerva her unsolicited advice later, as Poppy predicted that it would be a rough transition for both men. Alastor would be anxious because of his physical limitations while Kingsley, while willing to go along with Minerva, seemed to be struggling to hide his apprehension. Alastor was Nora's father combined with Minerva's long term highly combustible relationship with Alastor…

_**Men! **_Poppy disparagingly thought.

"You examined Alastor. What did you discover? What can we do to help him?" Kingsley questioned.

"I removed assorted metal … from Alastor," Poppy explained. Yes, she understood that the large items were called plates, but they did not look like plates or even saucers to her. "I've taken the liberty of taking that one medication to Horace to see if he can duplicate the effects. The one that makes him sane…"

"Alastor is _**sane**_," was Kingsley's fast as a whip response.

"Alastor called it his 'swallowable sanity', his mental miracle." Poppy explained.

"He's rather surprisingly chatty," commented Kingsley.

"I assisted his unusual loquaciousness by heavily dosing him. I needed him darn close to insensible when I removed that metal. It worked too well as I couldn't get him to stop nattering." Poppy's tone was significant as it seemed that the chatty Alastor had expressed something to her, something significant.

"Can you tell us what he said?" Minerva asked. Now, she was the one tightly clutching Kingsley's hand. "Please. He doesn't share his feelings easily, and I feel the time that it would take for us to batter down his emotional walls…"

"We could spend our time more productively," smoothly inserted Kingsley. "Poppy, tonight, he nearly fell off the carpet and started drinking again. We really need to know what he's thinking, what he's feeling, so we can figure out the best way to support him. I agree with Minerva; I don't believe we have enough time to get our battering rams out of storage. Did he give you permission to talk to us? He promised he would."

Poppy nodded her head in weary agreement.

"He's… overwhelmed… if Alastor Moody could ever be described as fearful, it is now. Nora terrifies him. Because of the issues with his father, he's scared stiff by the overwhelming potential to cock it all up. Alastor believes that he doesn't have the faintest idea how to be a father to a little girl."

"And Bryce?" Kingsley asked.

"Wild about the lad. He sees a very young Kingsley in Bryce. Alastor feels that after a bit of a rocky start, Bryce has accepted him and his various scars without any nattering or prying questioning. Alastor really needs that unconditional acceptance. I'm not implying that Alastor thinks you're prying, Kingsley. It's just with Bryce's painful past gives Alastor the opportunity to be consolatory and reassuring. Bryce is five, and a traumatized five at that, so it makes Alastor 'get his shite together'. "

"And Nora _**doesn't**_?" Minerva heard herself ask. She didn't mean to say it, but she had.

"Bryce is physically sturdier," explained a droll Kingsley. "Nora's a little thing, so Alastor fears permanent breakage. There is no return policy, you know."

Minerva gave Kingsley her best Professor McGonagall glare, which didn't bother him in the slightest. No, the bastard looked smug and winked at her. _**WINKED**_!

"That's the reason," explained Poppy.

"So, he's insecure and scared. What does he need from us? Besides unconditional acceptance and less prying?" Kingsley asked.

"He craves to be touched. Not sexually, as he doesn't think he's capable of it, but he's starving for human contact. Alastor is being noble, I fear, as he doesn't want to put a bigger kink in your relationship. He feels bad enough about his resurrection affecting your marriage, but he feels being clingy and needy would be the final straw."

Minerva gave an unladylike snort which amused Kingsley.

"Instead of calling it nobility, call it what it is, pure Irish mulishness. How is he _**physically**_? Mentally? Is he truly safe with our children? I have Nessie watching Bryce and Alastor right now…" Minerva slowed and then shook her head. "I had the House Elves watch Alastor and Bryce when they left here. I know Alastor… the old Alastor… worst thing you could do was imply that you didn't trust him. He would focus on that thought... obsess on it. Yet, it's barely been twenty four hours since he's met his daughter. With Alastor tempted to take a drink last night, I worry."

"I wouldn't leave him alone with them," admitted a somber Poppy. "He wouldn't intentionally hurt them, but little children… can easily find trouble. Plus, you mentioned he got rattled when Nora decided to express her displeasure with the entire teething process. How would he react if he was alone with one of the children and something went pear shaped? He's not completely steady on his feet, so use that as an excuse. Or claim you don't want to leave him alone due to nappy duty. On the positive side, I believe his memory will come back. Or at least, if not all of it, then most of it. Physically, he will need intensive therapy to regain his mobility."

Poppy flushed after looking at Kingsley.

"Not all the therapy will take place horizontally, Kingsley!"

* * *

"I'm back!" announced a cheerful Filius. Behind him trailed a properly subservient and obedient tea cart and a rambunctious box that was doing a very good impersonation of the Hopping Pot.

"Oh no, he looks amused," groaned Poppy. "What devilry are you up to, Filius? I thought you were pouring tea."

"Let me get settled," protested Filius. He snapped his fingers and tea set assembled itself on the table with sugar cubes (three!) being placed in Kingsley's cup while Minerva's tea was made extra strong. Poppy's cup was given a splash of cream and Filius took his ala Kingsley. Assorted tea sandwiches flew to their proper plates and Filius smiled.

"I can't believe how sweet you drink your tea, Kingsley" protested a playful Minerva. "High crimes again humanity."

"Blame Filius as my House Head," insisted a non-apologetic Kingsley. "We had many a tea when I was adjusting to Hogwarts. Plus, you can't say anything - you can varnish the floor with _**your**_ tea. Speaking of which, I need to talk to you about your renovation budget. If we brew enough of your witch's tea, we could stain the new wood in the library."

"Enough chinwagging! Drink your tea and eat. Now, _**behave**_, we'll get to you soon enough," Filius insisted to the very eager box.

To Minerva, the box seemed almost puppy-like in its enthusiasm, which meant Filius was being _**Filius**_.

"Just show me what's in the box," insisted Minerva. "Your eyes are twinkling worse than Albus when he was supremely amused at his own cleverness."

"Love, I think I've been insulted," stage whispered Filius to Poppy. "You _**will**_ cry insult and defend me from her slander?"

"No, you defend yourself," insisted Poppy. She put her plate of uneaten sandwiches into her lap and motioned for the others to do the same.

"Very well, on the table you go," insisted Filius.

The box jumped on the table and it opened itself to reveal….a gaggle of Dragons…. Stuffed dragons. They were of assorted colors, sizes and types and… oh _**no**_… they were fashioned to resemble a few well known people.

"Kingsley, I don't know if Minerva mentioned a book that I'd like you and Bryce to read together. It's about a little dragon that wants to run away and how his father handles it. I thought it would be helpful if there were enough dragons to represent everyone in the family. George Weasley was quite chuffed to be of assistance to his former instructor."

"More fearful words I have never heard spoken," Minerva dryly quipped.

Filius, who held high opinions of the Weasley Twins, blithely ignored her caustic commentary. "There's a little purple dragon with a bow, that's Nora. The green one is Nessie, and I have three adult stuffed dragons. The Mum Minerva dragon wears spectacles."

"I suppose I should be glad he didn't make me a cat," sighed Minerva as she looked at her spectacle wearing dragon doppelganger.

"I think you make a lovely Antipodean Opaleye," flirted Kingsley. "While I think I make a rather dangerous looking Ukrainian Ironbelly except for the kufi which utterly ruins the effect. Though the earring makes me look like a dashing dragon. And Alastor? Is he what I think he is? A Hebridean Black? It does looks like him, rough around the edges, a few scars on the snout."

"Yes, I thought a few scars would be good, not too many, but a few. My suggestions are read the book a few times, get comfortable with the material and then use the dragons. Give all the dragons to Bryce," instructed Filius.

"He'll need a mokeskin bag to carry them all," Kingsley quipped as he had his hand full with the five dragons of assorted sizes.

"You and Alastor will use the dragons in play therapy with Bryce. I think it will help Bryce AND Alastor, so I'll give you some suggestions. And there are some other items that Bryce is not to see," explained Filius, in a voice that dripped in unconcealed amusement. "This bag is from the adult section of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Don't worry, dearest, I made sure we have plenty of fun left for us. Now this is…."

It was horribly fascinating to see the proper Poppy turn that shade as Filius pulled out a large vial. The Charms Master gave it to Kingsley who uncapped the vial and hesitantly sniffed at it. After a moment, he smiled and then dabbed a drop on his finger. He then began to massage Minerva's hands.

"It's a massage oil to help with his stiffness", was Poppy's noble and doomed attempt at maintaining a professional mien.

Filius Flitwick twittered. "Is that what you youngsters are calling it these days? In my day, we called it…."

"It's for his stiff muscles in his _**neck**_ as he can't turn it," protested Poppy. "There are instructions in the box. And it's not for his theoretically limp todger! Don't you try to embarrass me, Filius Flitwick!"

"Theoretically?" Filius repeated. His eagle eyes narrowed as he pounced on her adjective. "In theory, but in _**actuality**_?"

"It should work. There's no nerve damage that will prevent him," explained Poppy. The two of them seemed to be having their own private academic conversation. "However, positions will require modification especially if there are three people involved. He doesn't have the mobility and flexibility that I'm presuming Kingsley does."

"Do any of us?" Quipped Filius. "Though I'm so chuffed that you don't know about Kingsley's mobility and flexibility from personal experience."

"You males have such fragile egos. If he thinks he can't compete, he won't bother trying. Then it will become a physical issue rather than emotional."

"I think there are a few….helpful items in here," Filius admitted. He looked into the bag, turned a slight shade of pink and then quickly closed it. "They can investigate it later. In _**private**_. Anything else they need to know?"

"Minerva," Poppy announced. "I need to discuss an issue with Minerva."

Kingsley squeezed Minerva's hands. It was a gentle way of letting her know that he was there.

"Should Kingsley stay for this part of the conversation?" Filius questioned.

"Absolutely! He should know that he can get Minerva pregnant as she is NOT barren. It's a discussion the three of them will need to have."

"What?" was the surprised chorus from Minerva and Kingsley.

"You're not barren. I've checked you from head to toe at least six times and especially those particular parts intrinsically necessary for reproduction. You are NOT barren, Minerva. Your first baby … there _**were**_ some congenital issues which couldn't be resolved via wand, potion or prayer, which is why you lost the baby. However, I don't know why anyone ever said you were barren. You're most assuredly fertile, Minerva. You're not even perimenopausal yet."

"She was so sick with Nora; do I need to remind you?" Kingsley questioned.

"Minerva was significantly underweight, extremely stressed and not taking care of herself as she was struggling to save the wizarding world," explained Poppy. "As it is, she's _**still**_ underweight. I'd like to start her on a potion regime if you're both interested in having another child."

"They told me I was _**barren**_. I even went for a second and third opinion," protested a stunned Minerva even while Kingsley commented on how much he liked Minerva's curves.

"I would hypothesize it was Alastor's step-mum, Gwen. Alastor's father never had children with her, and even when Henry Moody was at Hogwarts, I foresaw that his destiny was to crawl into the bottle and drown. When Alastor's Da died, Henry inherited. However, if Henry died, childless, Gwen would inherit everything if Alastor had no children, because the disinheritance spell was very specific. Only Alastor was disinherited and cast out of the Moody fold," explained Filius.

"He got the money anyway as Gwen died before Henry did," Minerva said. Her voice was calm and level, not willing to voice how she was reeling from the recent revelations. At least not until she could process everything.

Kingsley's strong hand on hers steadied her, grounded her.

_**Kingsley**_. How different his life would have been if Gwen hadn't intervened. How different her life would have been, as she wouldn't have Kingsley, Nora and Bryce. Would there have been a gaggle of gingers in her life? Would she be even at Hogwarts?

All those times with Alastor through the years that had followed; she had always insisted on performing the contraception spell. Because god forbid, if she did get up the duff again, she'd never be able to carry the baby to term. Because the lost of another baby would completely shred Alastor's sobriety.

Except for the last time, as she had believed herself in menopause.

"Sold the manor and everything else. Donated it all to the Hogwarts fund for indigent students with a specific request that Muggleborn be given preference," Kingsley stated. "Would you mind? If Minerva and I leave now? We've got a great deal to discuss."

"I hate to add more to your overflowing basket, but Alastor's friends wish to see him. Arthur, Dora and Remus and Harry Potter, among others. Harry also claims that he has Alastor's fake eye," stated Filius. "I told them that they were in the queue."

Kingsley nodded once and then stood. "Thank you for your time. I'd like to get back to the rest of the family now."

Minerva chimed in her agreement and dutifully thanked Filius and Poppy for their conversation. Then Kingsley and Minerva left leaving Poppy and Filius sitting together.

"Thank you," Poppy said. She leaned over and kissed Filius on his cheek.

The Charms Master smiled in response, "She took it rather well."

"No, she didn't," Poppy stated. "Fortunately, Kingsley will help her sort everything."

* * *

Minerva didn't say a word on the long walk back to her quarters. She nodded her head in acknowledgement of various greetings, but fortunately no one wanted more. Before entering her quarters, Kingsley stopped her.

"Our priorities are?" He asked in his calm, reassuring voice.

"Bryce, Alastor and … once that's sorted, then we can discuss the latest news," she requested.

"Agreed," was his easy response. To her surprise, he embraced her, instinctively giving her the support she was craving, and she clung to him. "Remember, you didn't promise me anything."

"I was serious," she protested. "I was honest about how I wished I could give you a child. And now, it seems, I _**can**_."

"We must get this sorted first, before we add anyone else to our family," insisted Kingsley.

* * *

Bryce woke screaming when the bad men hurt Nora. When he realized it was only a bad dream, he scriked like the baby he was. Not only because of his nightmare but because his head hurt and his body ached. Oh, how he wished his Mum was here to make everything better. But if Mum knew, then Lee would know…

To his surprise, Alastor wrapped him and his dragon into the continental quilt and placed them both in his lap.

"'Tis alright, I'm here, boyo," the old man's accent was thick yet his voice was soft. "Havin' a bad dream?"

Bryce nodded his head, least he tried, instead he shivered. Alastor's large hand rested against his face and then the old man shook his head.

"Feverish and sweating, Bryce. Seems you got a bit of the fiabhras, boyo. Let's get you sorted. I'm legless, so it'll take a moment. Kingsley and Minerva are still away, so let's see what I can do."

It took him a bit longer than that, as the poor lad sicked up. With assistance with Nessie, Alastor was able to give Bryce a quick flannel bath to bring his temperature down and get him cleaned. Alastor had thought a visit to Poppy was required but the House Elf, having far more experience in such matters, had believed that they were sufficient to handle it. Unless Bryce developed a rash or spots, which meant that Poppy needed to be brought in. Bryce was put in clean jim jams and tucked into bed, complete with his dragon while his beloved book was put on the bureau. Alastor sat down next to the bed while Bryce hid his face in his dragon.

"Feelin' better?" Alastor gently asked.

Head nod.

"Don't be scarlet, Bryce. What's bothering you?"

"Don't tell Lee," pleaded Bryce. "Please!"

Really, an instruction manual would be handy right now, Alastor thought.

"Lee needs to know that you're ailing," Alastor reminded Bryce. "You don't want me telling him you were sick… or that you made a bit of a mess?"

That was an understatement, as Alastor had witnessed a troupe of drunken Auror trainees out on furlough make less of a mess. Yet the ailing Bryce had looked so utterly miserable that Alastor had made no snide comment, had just cleaned him up and put him to bed.

That earned a head nod from both boy and dragon.

"You thinking that after you doing a bunk that you sicking up and making a mess will anger Kingsley?"

Another nod.

"Trust me, Kingsley won't be angry. I've done a lot worse to him over the years and he's still putting up with me. You just need a man to man conversation with Lee and you'll understand how much he loves you. We'll chat more when you're feeling better. And I'll stay with you until you're asleep. _**Promise**_," assured Alastor.

There. That sounded… adult like…. Paternal even.

"Don't _**tell**_," pleaded Bryce.

"Bryce, I _**must**_ tell Kingsley and Minerva how brave you are."

"_**Not**_ brave," protested Bryce.

"Well, I believe that you are. It's not easy being ill and you're being quite the grownup. You also know that they love you and they'll wish to check on you. Besides, boyo, you're popping out in speckles right now. There's no way they won't notice it."

Fortunately Alastor was not put in the position of over-riding Bryce's wishes as Nessie dutifully reported Young Master Bryce's illness and his growing collection of assorted sized spots to her Mistress and Master.

* * *

"Why didn't Bryce want to me to know that he sicked up?" Kingsley asked Minerva as they waited for Poppy to finish examining the possibly contagious Bryce. Kingsley had removed his kufi, which Minerva knew meant that he was feeling verklempt. The normally serene Kingsley always kept his emotions under his hat. When the hat came off, it meant that Kingsley's composure was about to slip. Usually in a most delightful way. Minerva was a traditionalist; she believed that clothes and hats came off in bed… but that wasn't the happy reason.

"He's a traumatized, scared little boy who worries too much," explained Minerva. "Maybe he thought that after running away with Alastor for ice cream, the fact that he has a bit of an ague and made a rather large mess would be the final straw?"

"Plus the spots," sighed Kingsley. "The spots wrap everything up in a purple bow. Minerva, I'm glad that he talks to Alastor, but I wish he felt comfortable talking to me."

They sat in silence for a while and Minerva attempted to cheer Kingsley by comparing him to his stuffed dragon doppelganger.

"Alastor's such a natural when it comes to Bryce. They go for ice cream; he reassures Bryce how brave he is. I need to make time for Bryce," a pensive Kingsley decided. "Ministry be dammed. If he's sick, I will take care of him. "

"_**Make**_ time?" Minerva focused on that word. She couldn't keep her disapproval from her tone. "Time turner?"

"I _**must**_ be here for him. I want Bryce to realize that he can rely on me. I don't want twenty years down the road to realize that I've helped spawn a new Barty, Junior. However, right now, our concern is that Alastor believes Bryce might have the Aethon Plague. Because of her age, Nora can't be exposed to it. Have you been vaccinated?"

"No," admitted Minerva.

"I've actually had something similar; enough to give me immunity. Alastor hasn't had it, so if Bryce's spots are confirmed to be Aethon, Alastor will be quarantined with Bryce for the next week in Barbados. Fortunately, Nora was with her Auntie Rolanda when Bryce became bespotted and House Elves aren't a carrier. I'll Time it between here and there, and Alastor seems quite capable of handling Bryce."

"Fortunately, we have a plethora of excess housing," teased Minerva. Normally, she would have chastised him for commenting on Alastor's bond with Bryce but she knew it was a raw subject.

"Your house, our special place in Barbados, Hogwarts and that monstrosity known as the Minister's Mansion. "

* * *

Bryce was tightly hugging his dragon. Auntie Poppy had told him that he was sick and he wouldn't be seeing Mum Minerva or Nora for the next week as they might catch it also. As Bryce was a good boy and didn't want his little sister sick, he didn't protest. But, oh how he'd miss his Mum tucking him at night. She always gave him a kiss and told him a story.

But Alastor was staying with him for the next week while he stayed at Lee's other house. The big man had winked at Bryce and told him that maybe they'd have ice cream for breakkie during the week.

However, that was unlikely as Lee would be with them also. Lee was the proper sort that knew one didn't have ice cream for breakkie. And Bryce desperately wished he wasn't ill as Lee was the Mister of Magic and was impotent… no … _**important**_. Alastor had said that there was a important difference between the two words and he'd explain it to Bryce when he was much, much older. Preferably after Bryce was married and had grandchildren.

That strange comment had earned him another wink and a brusque tussle of his dreadlocks from a grinning Alastor.

He liked Alastor, even though he had been scared of him at first. Alastor had explained to Bryce how he had hurt his head real bad, so he was astray in his head. Bryce didn't think that Alastor was that astray because Alastor was nice to him. He didn't take the mickey when Bryce had sicked up. No, Alastor had just cleaned him up without any mean comments.

Also Alastor didn't try to make Bryce talk. Fact was, Alastor had told Bryce that he appreciated that Bryce didn't natter on and on like most folks did. At the most they had talked about when Bryce had 'run away' was whether or not Bryce would like an Irish wolfhound puppy when he was older.

Seems Alastor had one when he was younger.

And there had been a brief serious discussion about whether or not Bryce could get his ear pierced like Lee did. Bryce thought it unfair that Nora had both ears pierced and Bryce had none.

Yet when Bryce felt like talking about serious things, Alastor let him. Like about the bad men.

So it was nice, it being the three of them, together. Alastor, Bryce and the stuffed dragon in companionable silence. Bryce knew that his stuffed dragon wasn't real, not at all! Bryce just liked to believe that his dragon made Bryce braver, as dragons were _**brave**_. Nothing scared a dragon! _**Nothing**_! And a dragon _**AND**_ Alastor were just buckets upon buckets of bravery. Unlike Bryce who was scared of everything even though Alastor had said he was brave.

Sometimes, the fear that the bad men were still out there would overwhelm him. When that happened, Mum was in her office, he'd plead with Nessie if he could visit Mum. Just to make sure she was still there.

He also knew that Mum Minerva and Lee didn't like him bringing his security dragon with him everywhere, like he was a _**baby**_, so he tried, he _**really**_ did – a few times to leave the dragon in his room. One day, Mum had noticed him getting twitchy as they were about to leave home to go somewhere really impotent… important, so she had gently asked him if he had forgotten something? He had run back to his bedroom and grabbed his dragon, thankful that his Mum had understood. It had been really noisy and chaotic gathering with a great many gingers, so he had been glad to have his dragon with him.

"Not feeling so well, are you?" The big man asked Bryce.

The little boy shook his head. He was hot and his head ached.

"Lee will be here soon. Why don't you get some sleep? When you wake up, hopefully we'll have you in Barbados."

"Bring my dragon?"

"Promise," assured Alastor.

* * *

The diagnosis confirmed, Kingsley returned back to Bryce's bedroom where Alastor was watching over him. The little boy was deeply asleep and didn't stir even while Kingsley picked him up from his bed. With an easy grace, Kingsley juggled Bryce into position and then offered his arm to Alastor.

"Once we leave, Minerva will gather what we need and will send it down. Will you take my arm?" Kingsley requested. Then, in a softer tone, "How's the form? It's been… what… slightly more than twenty four hours since you threw a kettle at me in Kilkenny? Seems like a lifetime or more."

"My head is spinning," admitted Alastor. "Everything's swirling, but focusing on just one person at a time makes it easier. Got the book? When he was sicking up, I put it out of spew range."

"Good man," was Kingsley's rejoinder. "Yes, have the book. And you have to see what the Weasleys created. A whole family of stuffed dragons for Bryce."

Left unsaid was what else the Weasleys had contributed.

"I'm sorry we have to go to Barbados, Alastor. Minerva needs to go home this weekend so we couldn't go there and well…your cottage in Ireland was firebombed," Kingsley quickly explained. "It was a good place, lots of happy memories."

"Taking your word on it," retorted Alastor. "From what I remember, I think you're spinning moonshine and fair dust."

"Alastor," protested Kingsley as he wasn't sure what Alastor meant. That Alastor didn't remember? Or was he remembering the Minerva-Kingsley tension of yore? "Take my arm so I can get Bryce to bed. Poor lad is exhausted."

Bryce murmured softly while Kingsley placed him into bed.

"Go to sleep," Kingsley requested. He leaned down and kissed Bryce on his forehead. "I have something you might like."

The little boy was introduced to his family of various stuffed dragons, the Alastor dragon, the Minerva….He clutched the three 'adult' dragons tightly once they were identified. The Nora, Nessie and Bryce dragons were simply too many for him to hold. Kingsley sat on the side of his bed and told him a story about a little dragon that was ailing. How his Da dragons would be nursing him while the other dragons would watch out for his little sister because dragon parents always took care of their children.

Alastor nodded his head in approval after Bryce was asleep. "You're a natural, Lee."

The two men walked to the small sitting room. Alastor was noticeably limping and rubbing his face.

"Nearly lost my teeth when he asked where all the Daddy dragons sleep with the Mum Dragon at night," Kingsley admitted.

"A really big cave," quipped Alastor as he had been the one to offer an answer to that thorny question. "Though I'm wondering why I got to be the Hebridean Black? You won't tell Bryce the story about the thimbleful of Hebridean Black blood, will you? Least not until he's of age as a warning against being a stupid arse."

"_**No**_," insisted an intense Kingsley.

"Just taking the mickey," explained Alastor.

There was a long silence after that.

"Do you remember ever being here before?" asked Kingsley.

There was once again a long pause, which Kingsley realized was Alastor internally debating about what he should say.

"No." Alastor's voice was soft when he finally spoke. "This place doesn't look familiar. Did we come here often?"

"No, you didn't particularly care for visiting here," admitted Kingsley. "You didn't like the sand because of your leg, and you didn't like the sun. After a while, I just stopped asking."

Alastor shuffled with his tarot cards and then placed them in an intricate pattern. He growled when he saw whatever they revealed. All Kingsley saw was the Star before Alastor gathered up his cards and roughly put them away.

Kingsley dimly remembered the star from the fog of his Divination Class.

_The Star is potential. It advises one to look toward the future. It does not predict any immediate transformation, but it does foresee the potential for hope and healing. One just has to trust and believe. Oh God, I am hoping, but it's difficult for me to trust and believe this will all work out. _

_Minerva sent me here with Alastor and assured that I need not worry about her reaction. If anything positive happens between Alastor and me, she will be delighted._

_**DELIGHTED**__._

_Though she wants a special bedtime story – sans Bryce - if it happens. _

_It is just so bloody easy for her. I am in awe of her utter confidence that this will all work out. Then again, Alastor __**never**__ stopped loving her. _

"Some of it is coming back, but not enough to know why you put up with me," admitted Alastor. "I was a raving nutter; I couldn't keep it in my pants; I never wanted to come here with you; I couldn't properly satisfy you…"

"Alastor, there was far more positive to our relationship than negative," explained Kingsley. "And I've told you, that I had no complaints about that part of our relationship."

Not a complete truth; sometimes he had craved Alastor to be… adventurous… in their bed or perhaps a bit more than terse. Yet, never at the expense of Alastor's physical or emotional pain.

His largesse earned him a shake of Alastor's head.

* * *

"Going to bed," growled Alastor.

Problem being that there was only one bed left. Kingsley was a far younger man; his magic worked, let him conjure up a settee. The old Auror had just thrown his long night shirt onto the bed when he realized Kingsley was in the bedroom.

A Kingsley who was _**shirtless**_, who was tying up the drawstring on his loose pyjama bottoms.

It seemed that Kingsley thought the bed was big enough for both of them. It _**was**_, but it most assuredly was _**not**_. There had been enough real estate in the bed last night so the three of them could sleep in it. Nothing else! Any slapdash sexual athletics would have ensured that someone would have fallen out of the bed and landed on their arse. Causing an ego bruise if not more.

Not _**now**_, as it was just the two of them.

A shirtless Kingsley, a poised lynx in his prime.

And an aching Alastor was feeling old, confused and damaged. An Alastor, whose life had gone arse over tit so many times in the last day that he was upright, _**barely**_. An Alastor was feared that the next looming mental gymnastic toss would leave him prone.

And an Alastor who was craving physical closeness. Not the act itself, because he didn't think his bloody todger worked.

"Do you wish the left side? You always preferred it," the bloody, entirely too handsome bastard asked. "I ensured that I brought enough pillows so you can make yourself comfortable."

Moody nodded his head.

"Alastor, do you need assistance getting changed?" That was Kingsley's next question.

"I'm _**not**_ sick," snapped Alastor.

Kingsley sat down on the left side of the bed and looked at Alastor.

"No, you're not sick. You're a miserable, stubborn prat; one that appears to be in a great deal of pain. I know Slide Along Apparition makes you short-tempered at the best of time so I appreciate the Herculean effort you made at being happy and clappy for Bryce. Now, stop being such a cantankerous git and let me help you undress." Deliberately, he kept his tone free from pleading.

Alastor shook his head.

"I wish you trusted me enough to actually let me know what is upsetting you," Kingsley gently chastised Alastor.

"I didn't tell the truth earlier. I _**do**_ remember being here…" Alastor's tone was odd and he was hunching his shoulders, pulling away from Kingsley.

"That's brilliant! Why didn't you tell me?" Kingsley asked.

"I remember that I came here looking for you as I knew you were leaving me. It was right after Minerva's father died. You came to the service as you knew how badly Malcolm's death was tearing at me."

Kingsley swallowed as he remembered that night all too well. He had gone to Malcolm McGonagall's internment only because of Alastor. The old Auror had stayed with Minerva the week before Malcolm had died, only saying that he owed Malcolm that much.

And then Alastor had stayed… _**stayed**_ with Minerva… after the funeral was over. And a jealous Kingsley had known that Alastor had buggered Minerva until he had broken all the bed slats. Kingsley had taken everything that he possessed from Alastor's cottage, refusing to be second best. He had come to Barbados, to nurse his wounds in private.

And a somber Alastor had arrived on his doorstep. In spite of never have been to the cottage, in spite of every spell that Kingsley had cast to make it Unplottable and Unfindable for Alastor. The bastard had appeared on his doorstep, pushed his way past a disbelieving Kingsley, all the while complaining that the always prepared Kingsley had perhaps over packed for his vacation as he had taken everything.

And while Kingsley had been valiantly struggling to protest, Alastor had stripped him bare and given him what was then the blow job of his short life. On his carnal Caribbean cachexy, there had been sex, sex, more sex and when Kingsley had been too exhausted to do much more than lay in bed, there had been even more sex. The entire week was still a bit of a hedonistic haze for Kingsley as he had been the recipient of every single seductive secret Alastor had known.

And Alastor had nearly carnally crippled himself in his noble attempt at sexually salvaging his relationship with Kingsley. Kingsley had originally believed Alastor when he complained about the sun and the sand, but… now Kingsley realized that Alastor had been fibbing. As the older man didn't want Kingsley to think that he wasn't able to physically keep up with him.

"Instead of going home with you, like I should have done, like a proper sort would have, I stayed. I stayed and I physically consoled Minerva. It was the first time I strayed and it tore me apart. I swore I wouldn't do it again. Minerva and I, we vowed that we wouldn't tell you, because what happened between us _**would**_ not, _**must**_ not, happen again… when I came home… and you were gone. All your clothes, _**everything**_… and I knew I had buggered up a really good thing again. That I would be alone, _**again**_, because I was a bloody, fecking idjit who couldn't keep his pants on. Because I was like my father."

"Alastor, do you remember anything happy about our years together?" Kingsley asked. He tried to keep his voice non-judgmental, to be supportive, but not syrupy.

"No," admitted Alastor. "I don't. I remember flashes of faces and names. I remember when I lost my leg and my eye. But I don't remember anything happy with you. I just remember cocking it up over and over again with you."

That _**hurt**_. Like a bludger to the 'nads. Thirteen years _**gone**_.

Kingsley swallowed, one, twice, three times. Then he asked, "How about your time with Minerva? You remember happy times with her?"

"Lee," softly protested Alastor.

That was answer enough. Fortunately, he had a ready excuse as there was a sick child in the other room.

"Let me check on Bryce," Kingsley said.

He turned to leave. However, Alastor's magic took hold of him and pulled him down. Then while Kingsley was attempting a protest, he realized that Alastor was desperately snogging him. It was a frenzied mashing of lips for a bit, until Alastor pulled away.

"I _**can't**_ be doing this. I remember the constant terror that you would leave," admitted a somber Alastor. "That raging paranoia….I shouldn't have kissed you, Kingsley. I don't remember the good times, but I know you kept me sane. You accepted me as I was, Mad as a Hatter Moody."

"_**Alastor**_," protested Kingsley.

More would have been said but they were joined in the room. Their visitor was a little boy who was clutching six stuffed dragons.

"Bryce?" Kingsley requested.

"Made a mess," whispered a sniffling Bryce.

"Alastor will get you changed and I'll handle the bed," announced Kingsley.

"Can I stay?" pleaded Bryce.

"Yes," Alastor inserted. "Though you don't bring all six dragons to bed. There's not a large enough bed here for nine dragons."

Bryce nodded and Alastor ignored Kingsley's arched eyebrow. He wouldn't say NO to Bryce, as normally, the boy never wished to climb into bed with Minerva and him. Even after he had a nightmare, Bryce would stay in his bed. However, Kingsley'd bet a bucketful of Galleons that the ailing Bryce would be snuggled in the middle.

* * *

A standing Minerva was rocking Nora. The Princess Nora was a bit stroppy as her favorite attendants, Bryce and Kingsley and their new promising apprentice, Alastor, were not there to pay suitable attention.

"Alastor already had the plague," Filius informed Minerva. "He won't come down with it. I'm surprised you didn't remember."

"I did remember," Minerva admitted. "However, I need _**all**_ the men in my life talking to each other. I love Kingsley, as he gave me Bryce and he gave me back Alastor. And I love Alastor, because he gave me Kingsley _**and**_ Nora. I hope that it all works out in the end."

"You hope? You're not positive?" Filius question.

"No, not at all, my dear Filius. Not at all."


	18. Chapter 18

When we last were with the boys, they were in Barbados.

* * *

When Kingsley woke, he was in bed by himself. Well, not completely alone, as it seemed that he was now cuddling the Bryce dragon. After he did his morning absolutions and with a dash of ablutions, he walked into the main room. A blanket-covered, bespotted Bryce was sitting on the couch; he was encircled by the stuffed adult dragons. He had Nora-Dragon close to him and he was "reading" to her.

"That's it, lad. The adults will keep youngling dragons safe," Alastor rumbled at the little boy.

Bryce nodded his head once and Alastor limped away.

"'Bout time you got out of bed, Kingsley. Bryce is hungry," growled Alastor. "I don't know what he can have, so I didn't give him more than weak tea and toast. He's got a sore throat."

"Ok, I'll make breakfast for us all," Kingsley tersely said, ignoring Alastor's not very helpful comment about it being closer to time for high tea. He walked over to the little boy in order to return his dragon and then he leaned down to kiss him on his forehead. In a much softer tone, "Get some sleep. I'll wake you when the food is ready."

There was a murmured response and Kingsley placed Bryce's book on the chair next to the couch.

"Bryce, you'll never be a bother to me, as I love you," Kingsley reminded the little boy as he tucked in Bryce. "Now, you get some sleep."

"Least he didn't claim you were impotent," offered a not very helpful Alastor.

The look Kingsley shot Alastor would have slain any mere mortal, but an amused Alastor just quirked one eyebrow. Naturally, they weren't discussing what had and hadn't occurred between them the previous night, no instead, they were talking about Bryce.

Kingsley continued to separate eggs, neatly separating the yolk from the egg, like his grandmother had taught him.

"Why haven't you adopted him yet?" Alastor asked. "Make him legally part of your family? It might stop him feeling that he's an imposition."

To his disgust, Kingsley's next attempt went arse over tit or in this case yolk into white.

"_**Our**_ family, make him legally part of _**OUR**_ family," Kingsley retorted. "We can't adopt him yet, not for a year and a day after we first started fostering him. We haven't been able to locate any family members, so nine months plus and he's ours. Legally. _**Emotionally**_, he's been ours since we first met him. I would beak every Merlin-blasted rule to adopt him now, but I don't want anyone voiding the adoption claiming favoritism. Right now, it's nine months, eighteen days, four hours and three minutes before we can make it official."

That exactness earned an approving nod from Alastor.

"Why don't you let him call you Da? He calls Minerva, Mum," was Alastor's next question.

"He remembered his father when we first met him," Kingsley explained. "His Mum… is Minerva…Minerva is all he knows. I Delved… just to see what he remembered, what I could put into a pensieve crystal for when he was older, so he'd have memories of his father. Plus, the first night with us, we had no idea with what we were dealing."

_**Delving**_ into the mind of a frightened five year. How Minerva and Kingsley had debated the ethics regarding that but Bryce's severe nightmares had left no choice. However, they hadn't touched Bryce's memories of his father's death as it was too raw a wound for amateurs to poke.

"How much did he remember?"

Alastor was thankfully not judgmental.

"How much he loved his father. That his father used to read to him every night from that book, even when they were running for their lives. How…?" Kingsley paused and then shook his head. "How can I ever compare to that?"

"Be yourself, Kingsley."

"Will that make everything better? Just being myself?" Kingsley asked. "Just by being there?"

Alastor flushed and looked away. He said not a word for the longest time, even after a peckish Bryce tucked away brunch. Bryce was then medicated and the little boy was soon asleep, clutching the Minerva dragon. Kingsley had just finished the wash-up when Alastor grabbed his forearm.

"You were there when she was born." Not a question, but a statement. Then a failed attempt at a polite request, "Share it with me."

Kingsley reflected on how he and Minerva had… naturally induced labor… using time tested methods and how Alastor might react to that. When he saw Alastor's crestfallen face, he expanded on his turmoil.

"It's not that I don't wish to share the experience but really, for our own physical safety, I need to ask Minerva," Kingsley explained. "It is her bits on display. She may not wish you to witness how she threatened to castrate me. I'll talk to her today and when I'm back in fifteen minutes, I'll let you know what she said."

"Fifteen minutes is too close," Alastor growled his protest. "You'll meet yourself going."

Kingsley just shook his head. "I know what I'm doing, Alastor."

"Tell her… tell her… I really …" the old mage said. He slumped his shoulders in defeat and nodded his head. "It's her decision. I can understand why she might not wish me to witness her in such distress."

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes," Kingsley repeated. "Time for me to go to work."

Minister Shacklebolt wore an expectant look on his face. Noticing Alastor's confused look, he tapped his cheek.

"Time for me to head to work," he repeated.

He again pointed to his cheek. His dark eyes narrowed in mock displeasure when the obtuse Alastor still refused to take the hint.

"You _**always**_ kissed me for luck before I went to work, Alastor. However, I guess I'll do the honors."

Kingsley gave Alastor a quick buzz on the cheek.

"Better," Kingsley said. "However, much room for improvement."

Deliberately, he kissed Alastor on his lips. The older man didn't immediately respond but Alastor moved closer to Kingsley as though to embrace him, to pull him closer. Then Alastor panicked and turned away from Kingsley.

"Kings," protested Alastor.

"You're part of the family, Alastor. Minerva and I want you to be completely involved. That means I can kiss you; we can both kiss Minerva and there is no jealousy. I let my envy of Minerva fester to the point where it put a strain on our relationship. There's no more of that, Alastor. She loves you, you love her and God help me as I need my head examined, I love both of you."

"I'm the third wheel in your relationship," was Alastor's response. "And I'm a _**busted**_ third wheel."

"Alastor… we'll talk about this in ten minutes," Kingsley promised.

* * *

"Well," Minerva asked when her husband strode through the door after a long day of Baby minding in Barbados and Minister Minding in London . "Did you sleep with him tonight?"

Kingsley arched one eyebrow at the mixture of tenses in that sentence. After leaving Alastor, he had Time Turned his way into his office in London so he had arrived even before Percy Weasley. Early in his second morning, he had jotted a quick note to Minerva and Poppy on how Bryce had sicked up and asked for instructions on how to handle when he returned back to Barbados ten minutes after he had left Alastor.

"Yes and no," Kingsley admitted as he sank into the couch. He put up his long legs, after kicking off his shoes. Once comfortable, he then motioned for Minerva to join him. "We shared the bed, had a chinwag, kissed, absolutely no tongue to answer your unasked and rather lewd question, and he got nervy. Alastor also expressed his desire to witness Nora's birth through my eyes."

"Oh my," Minerva said, after a very long pause as she remembered rather well that she had not been on her best behavior during that particular trauma. "What did you tell him?"

"That you'd have to approve."

"Perhaps, we can edit out the worst of it?" Minerva hopefully requested. "I was bit of a shrew."

"You were _marvelous_ and _awe inspiring_," protested Kingsley. "Alastor really wishes to experience it."

Minerva sat down on the couch next to him, and then rolled so she was lying on top of him. He placed his arms around her and gave her a long proper kiss.

"Nice," he finally offered.

"What did you two talk about?" Minerva asked. She leaned against Shacklebolt , propping herself up with her elbows so she could see his eyes. There was an exhausted look in them that she didn't like. "I know you didn't have a chinwag about the Magpies."

"No, Alastor was always a Ballycastle man. Minerva, seriously, he doesn't remember anything happy from when we were together. He claims all he remembers is how you two consoled each other after your father died," Kingsley finally admitted.

"Lee…" Minerva began and then she stopped.

"No apologies. It's in the past and you both had lost your father. Malcolm was your biological father and he was Alastor's emotional father. Yes, of course, Alastor would look for comfort from you as you are his closest friend. You and you alone knew how much Malcolm meant to him. And yes, he was fixated on the fact that emotional comfort meant a horizontal incline. "

Said matter-of-factly, as though that physical betrayal hadn't wounded the introspective Kingsley deeply. And Minerva, while proud of her Scottish pragmatic nature, knew now was the time for empathy.

She just looked into his tired eyes and stroked his face. When he began to speak, she kissed him slowly.

"Kingsley, promise me one thing," she requested after a lovely time snogging. "In this troika, you will tell me when you're feeling ... extraneous. And you're most assuredly will let me know when you're exhausted, be it physically or emotionally."

Her lover said not a word as he was weighing what to say.

"Kingsley, how are you feeling? You look… knackered," Minerva asked.

"Alastor feels that he is a busted third wheel so he and Bryce are our priorities. Plus we need to ensure that Nora adjusts to having him here," was his announcement. "Plus we have to make sure that you're not feeling besieged."

Minerva glared at him, trying, and failing, not to appear like a professor disappointed with a substandard response from an O student.

"I didn't ask about _**them**_, I asked about _**you**_."

"Knackered. I'm far more drained than I should be," he admitted. "And you went to all the trouble of having Nora farmed out for the night and you're wearing my second favorite, no less. My favorite being your Lady Godiva look, sans horse. Blasted horse makes me painfully aware of my physical short comings."

"Farmed?" Minerva repeated, refusing to be distracted.

"Farmed," he repeated. "I'm sorry but sleeping for the next twelve hours is my plan. After a long, hot bath."

Minerva was understanding yet secretly disappointed.

However, when Kingsley slept for more than day, she grew alarmed.

* * *

Unlike Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt was a good patient. He didn't growl, didn't believe in graffiti'ing the walls to inform everyone of his obvious discomfort and he always said please. However when Poppy decided that it was necessary for him to be starkers in front of Filius, he had to protest.

Really a man would like to be wearing more than a sheet wrapped around the essentials when there were three people in his bedroom. At least the trio was quietly nattering among themselves, so he could doze. It had taken everything he had to get out of the tub and get into bed. This malaise was assuredly not normal, and he wondered if he had gotten the Plague after all. Really, if he had any energy at all, he'd open his eye and do a spot check for… spots.

"Kingsley, I can most assuredly promise you that it's not the onset of the Plague. Your magic essence is low," the mediwitch decided. "Filius? Care to tell the Minister what he has done?"

That announcement caused Kingsley to attempt to rouse and actually focus on the conversation.

Filius nodded his head in agreement. "I believe your magical malaise is completely self-inflicted. Well, partially self-inflicted. I bonded you and Minerva, Kingsley but since Alastor was presumed dead, you didn't bother to tell me that you were also bonded to him."

"There wasn't any mention of monogamy in either bonding," Kingsley explained. "I didn't want Alastor dying in Minerva's bed in mid-coitus."

"_**Kingsley**_," hissed Minerva.

"It's the truth," his voice was quite soft. "You know it is. Alastor would have died in excruciating pain _**when**_ and not _**if**_, he had broken our bond."

"Who Bonded who? I'm assuming that you or Alastor performed the ceremony," Filius continued.

"Alastor. He insisted," Kingsley explained. "He was endeavoring to be romantic as he had accepted that he would be dead within the day. Our Bonding was his noble attempt to reassure me of my place in his life. For once and for all, he desired to assuage my apprehension. My bonding with Alastor was to be to the death, but as we know, Alastor is not dead."

"Kingsley." Now Minerva's voice was tender.

"Truth, Minerva. Now, Filius, more truth. Am I suffering from Relationship Ricochet?"

_**Relationship Ricochet. **_That would be humiliating to die from _**THAT**_. Like he was a love sick firstie who Bonded his first Hogwarts crush and then had decided to move on with someone else. Bonds were _**eternal**_. The vows _**held**_. And if they were snapped, it was utter agony for the bond mates.

Unless you were fortunate to die exactly when the bond was severed.

It would not be like this, an almost pleasant lassitude where he was utterly exhausted. It was almost post-coital, warm and fuzzy and… just craving a chance to sleep.

"No, I don't think this is Bond Reverberation. Did you and Alastor ever consummate your Bond?" Filius asked.

"No," admitted Kingsley. "He promised me that we would… but only after Harry was moved to a new location."

"I need the wording of your Bonding ceremony with Alastor. I have to research, Kingsley, but I believe that you are not Ricocheting from a broken Bond."

"The ceremony was based on the _**Bentresh Stela**_ grimoires. Alastor had a copy that he had acquired. It's currently located in Barbados, in our bedroom on the book shelf closest to the window."

"I'm familiar with the text," Filius assured the patient. "It's the only Bonding ceremony I know specifically dealing with same sex relationships."

Minerva remembered a time long past, with a young Alastor, desperate to create the perfect proposal, to put down in words what he could never voice.

"Alastor modified it, didn't he? Obsessed over how it had to be perfect?" questioned Minerva.

Kingsley nodded his head.

"Fortunately, I kept a copy of the final result. It's in the grimoire," admitted Kingsley. "It is an utter masterpiece because I now know comprehend how much effort he put into it."

"Bit of a romantic, aren't we?" Minerva teased.

Her comment earned her a fond and bemused grin from Kingsley. "Guilty. I kept the handfasting ribbons too. Used them as a bookmark."

Filius stared heavenward for a bit while he tapped his fingers on his legs. It was a sign that Filius was deep in thought and the others knew not to disturb him. Minerva tucked Kingsley into bed and sat next to him on the bed, holding his hand.

"If Alastor read the grimoire and if he mispronounced a word of three; that could explain the issue," announced Filius. "Or it might not. Minerva, now that he's awake, you need to return Kingsley to Barbados."

"She hasn't had the plague," protested Kingsley, who had the unique realization that in spite of being the patient and the Minister of Magic, no one was paying attention to any of his proclamations.

"How critical?" Minerva asked.

"He's not in imminent danger, but is Bryce still spotted?" Filius asked.

"Minerva can be exposed to him, but not Nora. And really, Alastor and he need adult supervision. When I last saw them, they were having ice cream for brekkie," Poppy announced.

Kingsley wasn't sure if he was upset over the fact that Alastor and Bryce were bonding over ice cream once more or just justifiably alarmed that Alastor and Bryce were being left unattended. Really, who was the adult in that relationship?

"Kingsley, I promise you that you and Bryce will have plenty of chances to enjoy ice cream together," Minerva consoled him. Her sympathy was marred by more than a slight smirk. "Nessie has been keeping an eye on them both. However, you have been asleep for the last three days."

"**What**?" Kingsley asked.

"You have been Timeturning again, Kingsley. Combined that with a wonky bond, you've exhausted yourself," Minerva said. "We've made arrangements. Don't worry about the Ministry. It's survived centuries without you; it can handle a week without you. Now we are heading to Barbados."

* * *

In Barbados, a young boy was looking for reassurance, what with the ruckus. He tugged on Alastor's hand.

"It's not your fault about Lee," Alastor explained to Bryce. Once again, with feeling. "No spots!"

"None?" Bryce asked. His dark eyes were quite serious as he looked for reassurance from Alastor.

"Not a single _**solitary**_ one. Minerva?" Alastor punted the question to her.

"Mum?" the little boy asked. He looked up at Minerva, who crouched down to his level and opened her arms. Bryce ran to and clung to her tightly. "You shouldn't be here! You'll get _**spotted**_ too!"

"Lee's exhausted, so we decided that he should be here to regain his strength, Bryce. And I won't get bespotted, so I wished to see how all my favorite men are handling being by themselves. Ice cream for breakfast, Alastor?" Minerva asked, arching one expressive eyebrow.

"Throat was raw," protested Alastor.

Bryce furiously nodded his head in agreement.

Minerva was striving not to laugh, as she knew as the lone levelheaded adult in the family, she needed to put her foot down. "Perhaps next time, it might be better for _**lunch**_? Now, Bryce, go see Lee. He's settled into bed."

The little boy ran off and Minerva shook her head. She stood them and faced Alastor. The shaggy haired, bearded man had his arms crossed and looked ferocious.

"Put away the growly bear face, Alastor, I don't have time. Rest assured, your belligerent reputation will be maintained. I will tell everyone that you were tetchy and cantankerous. However, you must tell me; did you reread your bonding ceremony with Kingsley? From the _**Bentresh Stela**_ grimoires? Filius has determined that Kingsley's Bond with you is bouncing around like a rambunctious puppy."

Alastor said not a word, which meant he was guilty as charged, but unwilling to confirm. No doubt out of misplaced sense of what he deemed polite behavior.

"Kingsley is not in imminent danger, however if you could confirm that you reread the bonds, we could decide how to best handle it. You know the grimoires; the very same grimoires my _**father**_ gave you? Really, Alastor; what am I supposed to think? My ex-finance, the love of my life, bonding his new love, utilizing my father's grimoires? If I didn't love both of you, very much indeed, I would be quite vexed. " Minerva deliberately kept her tone light, so hopefully Alastor would realized she was teasing him.

"I didn't think I would hurt Kingsley, I was struggling to _**remember**_," protested Alastor. "There are breaks in my memories. I remember Malcolm but I don't _**remember**_ Malcolm. He meant something to me; why else would he have given me those grimoires? And I don't remember anything _**happy**_ with Kingsley. I certainly am at a loss at why he'd want to Bond me."

"My father loved you like a son," Minerva reminded him. "Even if he did not even try to hide his delight that he utterly terrified you the first time he met you. And you were happy with Kingsley. "

She cupped his cheek with her hand.

"You were besotted with Kingsley. I was quite jealous of you," she softly reminded him. "However, that's in the past. Once everything is settled with Kingsley, I'll remind you why you were so terrified of my father. It's rather sweet."

"I remember... you told him that you and I had… after the bastard that had sired me disowned me… and… then your Mum invited me to spend the winter holidays at your home, because I had nowhere to go. I was so fecking scared of his reaction because I had nothing, _**nothing,**_ to offer his daughter. Then it's all blank after that. I sat with him when he was dying… but everything is gone. There's a note in the grimoire that he wrote to me, and…he gave them to me after you and I had broken our engagement. But I don't **_remember_ **Malcolm."

"Alastor, let's get Kingsley sorted first. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Alastor accepted.

"And Alastor, no more ice cream for breakfast. _**Seriously**_."


	19. Chapter 19

"Filius will be arriving shortly, so you will reread your vows to Kingsley to him. He'll be able to help get everything sorted," Minerva explained to the concerned Alastor.

"Do you really need to add more people to this kettle of soup?" Alastor asked. He tilted his head and looked down at Minerva. "You're easily as smart as Filius. I seem to remember you had the longest Hat Stall ever recorded. It's in _Hogwarts: A History_, as the Sorting Hat wasn't able to decide where you should end. I was not able to reckon - does a Hat have a mind? Even if it's a talking hat?"

"You remember my Hat Stall?" a surprised Minerva exclaimed.

"Yes, because I was the next student Sorted and I wished to be in your House. I hoped you'd be in Slytherin," he admitted. "When it was my time to be weighed and wrapped like a parcel, I struggled to talk the blasted Hat into making me a lion. Its response was that Slytherin needed me more than the lions ever would."

"You never told me _**that**_," Minerva said. "You wished to be in _**Gryffindor**_?"

Alastor looked embarrassed. As well he should, being a pure blood Slytherin of the old traditions.

"Only because you were a lion. If you had been an eagle, I would have wished to have been one. You never knew that I fancied you from the moment I first saw you. For years, I was convinced that if I was the orator my father was, the Hat would have agreed to let me into your House."

"No, I never knew," she whispered. "You never told me."

"I never told you near enough," Alastor softly admitted. He heavily sat down on the couch and he began massaging his right leg.

Minerva decided that boldness was the best course of action. She sat next to Alastor and put her hands on his leg. There was a knot in his thigh muscle and with an industrious efficiency; she began to attack the misbehaving muscle.

"Minerva…" Alastor softly protested as he moved his hands away from hers.

The fact that he didn't wish to touch her, _stung_.

"We won't end horizontally," quipped Minerva in what she hoped was a gentle, loving tone. "Not with Bryce and Lee in the next room. You've been overdoing it and your leg is bothering you. Taking care of Bryce is exhausting at the best of time, let alone when he's ill. Can you stretch your leg?"

Alastor stretched and he growled an obscenity.

"_**Language**_, Alastor. I would prefer if Nora didn't learn that particular word until she's at least four," Minerva snipped.

He nodded his shaggy head once. Alastor then closed his eyes and sighed.

"When we are all sorted, I'll ask Kingsley to share Nora's birth," promised Minerva. "I'd share my experience with you, but I fear your reaction. You'd never wish to have sex again."

"Make love," was his tired, rote response. "How many times have I told you, it was always lovemaking, never just sex for me?"

"I wasn't sure of your reaction if I use that term," she admitted. "Least you refrained from vowing that we'd never make love again."

"I've made enough promises that I've shredded. I know how our twisted relationship will end, with me in your bed again, Minerva. I will do it, even though I know that I will hurt Kingsley."

"The only way _**we**_ will hurt Kingsley is if _**we**_ don't invite him to join us," Minerva advised Alastor.

"Bloody hell," growled Alastor. He leaned towards Minerva and took her hands off his leg. "Why do you desire to ruin what you have with Kingsley? I see the way he looks at you; why pull me into it? I'm no fecking good. I don't remember anything and I've hurt you both repeatedly."

"Truth be told, I love both of you. I also believe that I am woman enough to handle both of you. At the _**same**_ time," Minerva firmly stated. "However, you and Kingsley need to get straightened out first."

* * *

Kingsley rolled on his side and saw a set of very serious dark eyes staring at him. Combined with the riotous dreads (apparently Alastor Moody had decided his version of child care was limited to sweets, not hair care) and the assortment of very dangerous looking dragons, it could only be one person. When the little boy clambered onto the bed, Kingsley was nearly clobbered by Bryce's beloved book, but he said not a word. Instead he moved over so the little boy could sit next to him.

"Bryce?" he murmured

The little boy stared at him intently. As though he was looking for something.

"No spots, Lee," insisted Bryce. "_**No spots**_!"

"I don't have the Plague," Kingsley informed Bryce. "I'm very tired. I just need a long nap and I'll be as right as rain. When I'm feeling better, you and I will go for ice cream. Just the two of us plus a dragon or three."

The entirely too grave little boy nodded his head.

"How about you? Are you tired, Bryce? What about your dragons?"

"Sleepy," was his soft confession.

"Let's get them all comfy," Kingsley suggested. "Tuck them in."

Before long, wizard, child and the assorted stuffed dragons were asleep.

* * *

"Semper amabo te non dubito cuncta meo. Tu mihi optimum…" Alastor slowly pronounced the last of his bonding ceremony and then expectantly looked at Filius Flitwick. His shoulders were hunched, as though internally preparing himself for ridicule. It was something Alastor the student had traditionally done after he had answered a question.

It had taken much patient tutelage from Filius before Alastor ceased that instinctive twitch.

"Oh my," whispered a tearful Filius. "I never knew you were such a romantic. That was … _**beautiful**_."

An extremely embarrassed Alastor self-directed a disparaging, growled comment.

Once Filius composed himself, the Charms Master smiled. "Good news. Your pronunciation was impeccable. You didn't differentiate the dipthongs. Your pitch was perfect; your gliding of the monothongs was gorgeous. Your syntax was superb. You have crafted a Bonding Ceremony suitable to be added to the _**Lexicon of Bonding Ceremonies**_."

"Then why the bloody hell is Kingsley on the verge of physical collapse?" growled Alastor.

"The Bond between you and Kingsley was never consummated. Repeated physical contact helps strengthen the bond….It doesn't have to be sexual contact, but your Bond has been woefully neglected. Since Kingsley Bonded Minerva and we didn't balance his Bond with you, his magical essence is off kilter as it's feeding two Bonds. Bluntly, I think your Bond with Kingsely is fraying from the strain. Since you're alive, the Bond was meant to be death to you part; Kingsley's neglected Bond is voracious as it's been starved for the last year and more. Add in the entire Timey Wimey incident when Kingsley took Minerva back a year in order for her to have the baby, and it's gone completely pear shaped. We need to balance the bond and do it expediently."

"How," Minerva asked.

Filius turned pink. "Skin to skin contact. Doesn't have to be sexual contact, but it would help re-align it faster."

When Alastor said not a word, Minerva took command. "How much time do we have?"

A confused Alastor mouthed, "_**We**_?" and Minerva repeated it louder. "Yes, _**WE**_. How much time do we have?"

"I'd say… twelve hours," Filius admitted. "At the most. If the Bond isn't stabilized, it will be a peaceful end for Kingsley, as he'll simply fall asleep."

"Get undressed," ordered Minerva. She walked towards the stunned Alastor and with swift, expert motions; honed by years of erotic exercise, Minerva began pulling his shirt out of his trousers.

He slapped at her hands, gently but still forcible enough so that she'd cease manhandling him. "Not in front of Master Flitwick."

"This is no time to be bashful, Alastor." Her tone was brisk, but she tried to be compassionate. "Drop trow and get into bed."

"_**Must**_ you order me about?" Alastor growled. "I do know how to shuck off my clothes!"

"Yes, I must instruct you as I'm terribly frightened about losing Kingsley _**and**_ you. When Kingsley dies, the Bond will recoil back to you. If you're fortunate, it will kill you instantly, else it will be an _**excruciating**_ death…" Minerva spoke quietly, yet intensely.

"And what about you?" Alastor asked. "If Kingsley dies and I go with him, what about you? You are Kingsley's bondmate."

"I'll be alone," Minerva stated with a quiet dignity. "Witches, being the stronger sex, usually can survive the abrupt severing of a Bonding. Plus, I have the children to tie me to the earthly plane."

"I'm going in," Alastor growled. "I'll undress in there."

"I want to come in also, so I can take Bryce. I won't say goodbye to Kingsley, because he's not going anywhere. Kiss for luck?" Minerva quipped.

"Not yet," inserted Filius. "Don't kiss Alastor and most importantly do not kiss Kingsley. The bond is failing due to a lack of magical essence to continue it. Physical contact with either one of them may cause it to latch onto you."

Alastor kissed two of fingers and then blew on them so the kisses were sent toward Minerva. The surprising gesture brought back old memories and Minerva had to wipe her eyes.

"You did that in Glasgow on that night we reconnected. We hadn't talked in years after we had dissolved our engagement… and there you were … in Glasgow. We were at the same boring function. I was a guest, you were guarding someone. I looked at you and you did _**that**_. It was so… unexpected… yet so undeniably you… It all came back... how much I loved you," she whispered.

"I never…." Alastor began.

"No, no, no, no, no! Kingsley! Focus on Kingsley!" Filius interrupted. "Kingsley! When that's sorted, you two can hash out old times. Not before!"

* * *

"Come on, Bryce. Little dragons need to sleep in their own cave," Minerva said. She held out her arms and Bryce went to her. However, he first embraced Kingsley tightly. Kingsley and Bryce exchanged a few soft words, and then Bryce left with Minerva.

Kingsley grinned a knackered, though pleased smile.

"Once I'm sorted, we'll have… an ice cream shufti. My chance… to be… brill."

That murmured quip failed to earn an answering smile from Alastor. Instead, Alastor pulled the covers down from Kingsley and began unfastening his dressing gown. "What's this? A dressing gown _**and**_ a nightshirt? You always insisted on sleeping in the altogether when we came down here."

"Cold," admitted Kingsley.

"Need to get you undressed, Lee." Alastor's tone was brusque but his hands were gentle.

Again, Alastor was rewarded with a sleepy smile. Once the dressing gown and night shirt were removed, Kingsley roused enough to query, "Why?"

"What's with the one word questions?" barked Alastor. "You were always the chatty magpie. You always nattered on and on; I was the taciturn one in our partnering."

As now he was absolutely starkers, Kingsley moved his hand to cover his bits. Alastor, trying to be the proper sort, ignored the fine view and re-covered Kingsley.

"Feeling… pithy." Again Kingsley smiled and then he shivered. "Cold, too."

Alastor moved to the other side of the bed, pulled the covers down and then sat down. He began to unbutton his shirt. He did so quickly, as time was of importance. Trousers and pants were next… then his leg. The trow were easy. He swallowed once, took off his big boy pants and also the artificial leg. Gracelessly, he rolled into the bed and realized that Kingsley was watching him. Lee had turned on his side and watched the raree show.

"Must be dying…" Kingsley murmured.

"Stop nattering," growled Alastor. "You're not dying."

Alastor pulled Kingsley into position, so that the younger man was lying on top of him. Kingsley's head was on his chest and the other bits were more or less aligned. The positioning completed to Alastor's satisfaction, he then wrapped his arms around Kingsley.

"The Bond will realign and everything will be fine." Alastor insisted. "We both need to be starkers so the bond can realign faster. I never realized Master Flitwick was a traditionalist. Doing magic sky-clad indeed!"

_**What if it's not? What if this doesn't work?**_

"First time I've seen you undress… Always insisted… had to be done with the lights off… in the dark… because you thought I was…. fickle minded. It always hurt that you couldn't trust me." Kingsley's voice slowed and his breathing became slower and heavier as though he was about to fall asleep….. _**Permanently**_ asleep.

"Come on, keep talking," growled Alastor. "Tell me how angry I made you because I wasn't faithful. Just keep talking, Kingsley."

"I'm not angry… not anymore," Kingsley slurred. The younger mage made an obvious effort to rouse. "It's who you are. I'm honored you let me in as far as you did."

More silence. Alastor was debating about the propriety of giving Kingsley a proper pinch in a vital area, for his own good, mind you, when Kingsley spoke.

"I can hear your heartbeat," he whispered. "Steadfast, that's my argy bargy Alastor."

Kingsley shivered and Alastor carefully rolled him onto his back.

"Topping me, just like old times," Kingsley whispered. "You always had to be on top. I'll agree to it this time, just because it will warm me."

"Unless I crush you," Alastor growled even as he carefully positioned himself just so.

"You never did before and you're far thinner now," was the teasing response. Then in a more somber tone, "Alastor…If this doesn't work…"

Kingsley stopped talking and a very somber Alastor inserted, "I'll get Minerva..."

"Promise me, _**you**_ _**stay with her**_," insisted Kingsley. "She'll need you. They'll need you."

"You're not going anywhere," growled Alastor. He couldn't tell Kingsley that if the younger wizard died, the old warlock would soon be visiting Amentet in the Land of the Dead, bearing a container of ginger bikkies for his arrival party.

"No…. I'm not…" was Kingsley's easy agreement which meant that he was humoring Alastor. He brushed Alastor's shaggy hair out of his eyes and his smile faded, revealing that the normally serene Kingsley was far from composed. and in fact, was terrified. "A proper kiss for old time's sake. _**Please**_."

It started off properly, if a bit prissy, Kingsley decided. A brief brushing of their lips. When Kingsley murmured his disapproval, Alastor kissed him again. Harder and with a great deal more oomph.

* * *

"Filius," Minerva carefully and deliberately enunciated to Filius. "I'm grateful that I'm next to the window. There's a bit of a cooling breeze."

"Not helping is it?" a sly Filius asked.

"No," she admitted. "I'm on the edge of silver potion knife right now. I'm not sure if I'm annoyed that I'm experiencing _**everything**_ second hand, or admiring their carnal restraint. It was a whole fifteen minutes before…"

Minerva looked at her former professor. With his rather amused smirk, Filius Flitwick reminded her of the dearly departed Dumbledore. Well, Minerva had extensive experience puncturing an inflated Albus, so she held nothing back in what she informed Filius.

"Alastor rediscovered the joys of giving oral sex. Kingsley seems to have no complaints."

There was no question that Minerva had scored with her quaffle quip as Filius was fuchsia. And speaking of scoring, Minerva was feeling rather warm, tingly and hankering for some co-ed naked Quidditch. No one had warned her how she would experience… second hand… Kingsley…. Well… Kingsley receiving a furiously, fabulous fellatio.

"Minerva, Minerva, _**Minerva**_," chastised Poppy.

"Well fortunately, you didn't tell Alastor he needed to drop trow," continued a merciless Minerva.

"No, you _**did**_," Filius reminded her.

"No, you kept it all above the belt, as it were. I put the thought in his mind." Minerva inhaled slowly and closed her eyes. "Actually, it seems that the idea was already in his mind. Very, very much in his mind. In fact, I think he's rather fellatio-ly fixated."

"Minerva, you'll need to join them in a bit," began Filius.

"The boys know where the parts go." That comment would have been funnier if her retort had been a tad bit faster. Unfortunately, her lightning wit was bogged down in illicitness and she then undulated like an itchy cat.

"Kingsley's bond is suffering because he's torn between the two of you. You, Kingsley and Alastor will be needed to stabilize it."

"By jumping in bed with them?" Minerva half-heartedly protested as Alastor was doing something to Kingsley that had Kingsley in a state of near ecstasy. Really, she must remember to ask Alastor exactly what he was doing to Kingsley because... really... Kingsley was quite appreciative.

"Kingsley is extremely depleted, Minerva. He may…." Filius began slowly.

"Don't you say it, Filius," protested Minerva. She knew how precarious Kingsley's situation was. She even had discussed the matter with Alastor, however to hear Filius Flitwick admit his concerns... She couldn't lose both men. Not after finding them.

"I _**must**_. Alastor isn't firmly _**here**_. If Kingsley…. I believe…." Filius stopped. "Get undressed, Minerva. I'll watch Bryce."

The Charms Master went toward Bryce's bedroom, leaving Poppy and Minerva alone. The two witches embraced quickly and then a teary eyed Minerva nodded her head. She had made a decision, and it was time to go full tilt after the snitch.

"Poppy, I'm drinking the potion. If Kingsley and Alastor…. I'll still have Nora and Bryce. However, I'll want part of Kingsley. I know you told me to wait, until we tried the natural way but… "

"Don't tell me that I didn't warn you," Poppy snapped. Her voice was curt but her eyes were compassionate. "With your luck, you'll have triplets or more."

* * *

He had tried his utter best with Kingsley. Used every trick he might have known, even attempted a few sexual positions he didn't remember, but Kingsley was becoming more and more difficult to rouse.

"Don't leave me, you bloody bastard," growled Alastor. "I _**can't**_ live without you."

In more ways than one, Alastor knew.

There was no response from Kingsley. Not even the crooked grin of wry amusement that he rarely gifted Alastor. The door to the bedroom opened and Alastor quickly ensured that Kingsley was covered. Didn't wish him to catch a chill from the draft. Best pretend that he had just worn out Kingsley… not that Kingsley was dying… because of him.

When Alastor realized that the visitor was _**Minerva**_, he was filled with both relief and dread.

_**She knew. She knew that I couldn't fix the damage I caused…. That Lee's a goner because of me…. but at least, she'll be here….. at the end.**_

Minerva closed the door, and then she walked until she was next to the bed.

"How is he?" Minerva spoke in a soft whisper. Her tone wasn't accusatory, because she had long accepted the bitter truth that Alastor Moody was a colossal cock up.

He shook his head and Minerva began to undress.

"Budge over," she ordered. "I'm joining you boys. We both love him…."

Really, all he could do was nod his head in weary agreement.

"And I love you, Alastor Moody. Never stopped, even after all these years."

"He never stopped either," weakly inserted Kingsley. "Just figured that I'd let you know… He's too busy gawking at the fine view to do anything more than praise God repeatedly."

Moody and McGonagall looked at each other and then at Kingsley. Who was smiling slightly and appearing distinctively more alive since Minerva had decided to pop in and pay her sky-clad respects to the dearly debauched duo.

"Stop gawking, I'm cold," protested a shivering Kingsley.

"Demanding bastard," spat a grateful Alastor.

"Minerva must be cold. I can tell because…" Kingsley's report on Minerva's two personal thermometers was fortunately silenced by Minerva kissing him. When he had been properly kissed, she buzzed Alastor.

"In to bed with you," she ordered Alastor. "Lee's quite cold, you can tell because his…"

"Is _**not**_," protested a mock offended Kingsley. "No shrinkage!"

"You can do better than that, Minister Kingsley," Minerva informed him tartly. "Alastor… I think we need to show the Minister that he could do much better with his proclamation of passion."

* * *

Epilogue.

Minerva was sleeping, something that was all too rarely accomplished these days when an excited Bryce stampeded into the bedroom. From the assortment of arms resting on her, it seemed that Kingsley had ended in the middle once more, which meant Alastor was on the right. Fortunately, from what she could see, all the adult dragons were dressed for once. Kingsley always seemed to end in the middle, as Alastor still wasn't comfort with receiving physical affection.

However, Alastor was becoming more comfortable with expressing affection. Minerva knew that he watched the younger Kingsley like a hawk, seeing what he did and how he did. Then Alastor would struggle to copy it. Not in public because people gossiped. _The Daily Prophet_ had already run a scandalous story on Minister Kingsley's alleged sexual deviancies as they were convinced that something wasn't quite proper with the Minster's relationship with the Auror guarding his children. Kingsley had then read the story in front of a departmental meeting, laughing uproariously at the more illicit sections.

"Really, I was rather insulted," he later informed Alastor and Minerva. "Our alleged sexual exploits were just so… tame."

However Bryce was busy staring at his Mum now, so she needed to focus on him. After Bryce had been given a rather explicit explanation by Alastor… Merlin help them all, on where little baby dragons came from, Bryce had become quite adept at sneaking past their various barriers to see if the baby dragons had arrived.

"Mum!" Bryce whispered. "Is it _**time**_?"

His question was repeated by Nora who had followed her brother's sortie into the Adult Dragon Cave.

For a moment, Minerva wasn't sure if they meant their sisters' arrival or Bryce and Alastor's Bonding ceremony. Alastor had decided that he'd officially Bond Minerva during the same time as Bryce's Adoption Bonding ceremony. That was it was the two of them who were the odd ones out, not just Bryce, he had explained to Minerva.

"Bryce, not yet," Alastor growled. The warlock grumbled and growled as he found his leg. That done, he pulled himself out of the bed and limped towards Bryce. "Your Mum needs her sleep, Nora. Let's do a shufti for brekkie. We've got another eight hours before the party."

"Eight?" Bryce repeated.

"Yes, _**eight**_. Eight more hours before we all become one big dysfunctional family."

"Alastor," protested Kingsley. Then in a softer voice, Kingsley explained to Minerva, "Alastor never was a morning person."

"Dys… fun…." A serious Bryce repeated slowly.

"Fun. Before we become a _**fun**_ family," Minerva said. In a waspish tone as truly she wished that she was still asleep, "Though I find it impossible to believe that we could be more fun than we are now. You and Alastor will belong to us in eight hours. No one will ever be able to take you away from us."

That earned a bright smile from Bryce.

"My sisters?" Bryce then looked at Minerva and she answered his questions quickly.

"No, your sisters won't be at the party. Hopefully, they'll wait until tomorrow to arrive," Minerva assured him.

Bryce pouted for a bit before Alastor reminded him that his sisters' late arrival meant there would be more cake for him. His sisters were promptly forgotten as well baby sisters were _**sisters**_, and cake was _**cake**_ with _**fairy icing.**_

"I know a lovely way how to convince them to make their arrival," purred Kingsley.

"Touch me and _**die**_," Minerva snapped. In a softer, more controlled tone that meant she was close to hexing off the smug Kingsley's bits, she added, "I don't think Bryce would appreciate his Bonding Ceremony being delayed because I'm in labor."

"You need help getting upright?" a cautious Alastor asked Minerva.

"While you both are here, I should get upright."

It took some effort, a muttered curse or three, a deflected Hex she had half-heartedly threw out just to keep the boys on their toes, but she was soon perched on the edge of the bed. There was Kingsley on her left, Alastor on her right and they were both embracing her and her expanded equator. To her surprise, Bryce and Nora had also sneaked into the group hug.

It had taken a great deal of time, effort and a few strategic kicks to Alastor's arse to get her family re-orientated and stabilized to their new norm. Two Dads, one Mum, a big brother, a big sister plus the latest additions who were now overdue.

Their family was a work in progress and would continue being a work in progress, as sometimes the old ghosts visited and required exorcism. Alastor would emotionally and physically withdraw when the pain from his old injuries flared anew, Kingsley would be slightly disconcerted when Minerva would remind Alastor of a cherished memory and… well… Minerva had been more than a tad bit jealous when she had told the boys that she was in no condition to entertain the troops and go have their own fun. She had given her permission (not that they had needed it, she had reminded herself) but still, must they return to their group bed, appearing so bloody sexually sated and carnally conceited while she was so blasted uncomfortable?

And while Kingsley thought Alastor was the biological father, and Alastor firmly believed that Kingsley had done the honors, Minerva knew the truth. And since no one had bothered asking _**her **_opinion, she was quite content to wait – and see their reaction when each man was handed their daughter.

She just hoped Alastor's daughter wasn't ginger because Kingsley's daughter would probably have the dark hair of her two parents.

Even _**The Quibbler**_ would be able to figure what _**THAT** _meant.

The End

Thank you for reading.


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